


25 Days Of Christmas - Corvosider Edition

by adrift_me



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Alternate Universe - Canon, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mute!Corvo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 25,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Since the moment Corvo and the Outsider's fates crossed, there is not a time they may be seperated. And every story such as theirs has a kiss.Celebrating December with 25 days of Corvosider kisses.





	1. Day 1 - A Kiss On The Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for checking out this ficlet collection. I am in love with the holiday season and my goal is to spread love and happiness. Thus I'm writing this Dishonored Christmas Advent calendar 2017, which will feature 25 various kisses. No angst, only fluff. And a variety of kisses, from lips to whatever. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> This story will follow DH1 -> DH2 -> DOTO progression.
> 
> This is dedicated to the loveliest people I had an honour of meeting, my awesome kinksamers <3 Consider it my Christmas gift to you all.
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Whenever Corvo takes a break on his tiresome journey to save Emily, he inevitably turns to the mark on his right hand. It seems to be drawing his attention in the darkest shadows, in the brightest corners, in moments of peace and contemplation. He has had it only for a few weeks, when the mysterious deity the Abbey warns everyone off against has appeared in his dreams, granting him power beyond other men. It should be a curse, but it is more of a holy blessing.

The mark is all black ink and sharp swords in shape, circling over Corvo’s hand. Its power drags him out of the worst situations, and with every time his neck is saved, he grows to appreciate it more. Not the power of the gift, but the blessing itself, that one that he has been given.

It is when he saves Curnow and eliminates Campbell that he kisses the back of his hand for the first time.

He is in his bed, relaxed on the mattress, muscles aching after many jumps and running. He looks in the small window to the right, where clouds pass by slowly and smoke rises in the distance. Every now and then the air fills with a screeching of the loudspeakers, but Corvo tunes out anything it says. With a heavy pressure he realises that the mission is over, craved for sleep is close and he is alive. With a gasp of disbelief, almost a cry, he presses his lips to the mark fervently, pouring all of his relief into it.

Immediately the world drains of colour and existence itself stops. The clouds hang high in the sky without motion and the stars don’t glitter. The Outsider appears before Corvo, detaching from the inky shadows. He is hovering a few inches off the ground and his hands are clasped behind his back. The god’s head is tilted curiously, and Corvo looks back at him in expectation. Corvo looks back patiently, too tired to slide off the mattress but too interested not to show that his attention is with the Outsider.

“One step closer to your goal, Corvo, and soon the world will change with your every choice. What will it be, a tremble of fear or anticipation of a hero?”

Corvo’s eyebrows arch and he sits up on his bed, propped against a shallow pillow. His legs are pushed up and he leans on one knee with his arm while looking at the Outsider thoughtfully. The deity stands with his back to Corvo now, looking out of the window.

“A great many changes are yet to come. The true question is - are you ready to face them?”

Corvo drops his gaze from the Outsider’s broad spread back and looks at the mark with a small smile. Somehow, he thinks, with a blessing of a god he may just be ready.

He doesn't think long, lets his head turn and his lips press to the mark again, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opens them again, he is met by the Outsider’s curious and somewhat surprised gaze. It lingers on him lightly, mild curiousity touching those black-black eyes that fail to reflect any light.

“You are playing with fire, Corvo. But when has it ever stopped you?”

With a smile warmer and brighter, the Outsider disappears, leaving only a brief trace of the Void’s blackness behind. Colours spring back to life, so do the clouds and shimmering lights in the lanterns.

The mark warms Corvo’s hand as he goes to sleep. He clenches on the pillow with his marked hand, looks at its black shape in the darkness of the room. It is his blessing and his boon.


	2. Day 2 - Kiss On Top Of Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for kind messages and comments, it encourages me a great deal <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

It must be pure strength of his will that draws him into the Void. That, or the fact that his willing attracted the Outsider’s attention. Corvo doesn’t even have to spend time wandering the blue labyrinths of the Void, as the deity is waiting for him on the edge of a wide rock. He floats very close to Corvo, head tilted in question.

“Only the most soundly sleeping ones didn’t feel your need to see me, such was the power of your will’s disturbance in the Void. What is the urge, Corvo? What matter makes you quite so hungry for my council? A council not given freely.”

He gives Corvo a small smile which is meant for appreciation, but Corvo ignores it entirely and points an accusing finger at the Outsider’s chest. He signs at him,  _ why are you bothering Emily’s dreams _ ?

Much to Corvo’s surprise, the Outsider huffs out a rather hearty laugh. It sounds odd, as if the air vibrates and not the god’s voice. The Void seems to tremble with it, and Corvo can feel the wobbling of the strange reality.

“A fatherly concern has brought you here, I see. Let me put your mind to rest, my dear Corvo, I have no malicious intent for I am not a malicious god. I am merely curious. Young Empress has many paths ahead, all depending on your choices. I only wish to see what character she possesses. What Empire she will build. What daughter to her mother she will be.”

Corvo tries to put signs together again to ask the Outsider to stop what he is doing, but gestures fail him. He only shakes his head, because he has grown to believe the Outsider’s word beyond hesitation. It is as if the god simply cannot lie. 

The world blackens for a brief moment and Corvo finds himself back in the attic which is drowned in midnight darkness. The only lights are those that come from the pub and from the distant city. The Outsider floats beside Corvo, his head still tilted and his arms crossed. Blackness swirls around him in an almost comfortable recognizable presence, making the world stop and wait for the deity to withdraw.

“The night is peaceful, young Emily sleeps soundly. And for once, Corvo, so should you. Rest easy,” the Outsider says softly. Corvo sits on the bed and pulls his boots off, then gesturing at the deity,  _ why have you followed me back to reality? _

“Because I saw you wishing a good night to Emily. I saw many people do that, a mother to her son, a daughter to her grandmother, a husband to a wife. I thought, perhaps, you would appreciate the gesture. You are not unfamiliar with it.”

Corvo gives him an astonished smile. In the Outsider’s mouth the ritual of good night wishing sounds almost sacred, alien. But out of curiosity and, perhaps, out of hope for affection that is are, he allowed the Outsider to approach him when he gets his legs up on the bed and pulls at the blanket.

He does not expect the Outsider to lean down to kiss the top of his head, lips pressed to the greasy locks.

“Good night, Corvo,” says the echo of the god’s voice as reality falls back into motion and colours. Corvo reaches to touch the place where the Outsider’s lips touched him and smiles amusedly.

That night he sees no dreams and no nightmares, only accompanied by the embracing soft nothing and a distant singing of the whales.


	3. Day 3 - Tipsy Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love describing how the Outsider's presence stops the reality. But I will try to step away from repetitiveness :D
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

He is feeling rather reckless today. As if followed by luck in his step, Corvo has managed to remain unnoticed on his way to the Boyle mansion and is still covert within its grand halls. They are filled with glitter and gold, draped around the walls in a tasteful fashion. Flowers everywhere, scattered through rooms together with refreshments and the many guests of the Ladies’ Boyle.

Wherever he goes, he sees familiar people, the nobles that he used to greet with his face open mere months ago. It is now that their faces, hidden behind the masks, seem to be holding more truth than when without them. Corvo as a Royal Spymaster knows who is who by their walk, by the way they speak, how their hands move. There is a political game being played under notice, gestures to the right men, nods at the right servants.

It comes as no surprise that he, being the master of that very game, manages to keep his presence down to a mere guest.

“Oh, you make me curious, my dear,” says a lady with an appalling mask of a wolfhound. “You have not said a word all evening from what I noticed, and ah, believe me, I do notice so much. You want your voice hidden, I presume you have to be known by it. Oh, may I share my guess? You must be that singer… Ah, what was his name…”

While the lady remembers the name of the singer that Corvo is not, he treats himself to a small glass of punch. He has already had a few, this one is just to support the conversation, or so he thinks. He is glad for a small slit in his mask, pouring the drink through it in his dried mouth. Sweet liquid trickles down his mask a little and he rubs it off.

“I dare say, my dear, that coming to the Boyle’s ball in such a mask is absolutely scandalous, but isn’t it what we have gathered here for? This, and the guessing game, of course.”

With a shrill laugh she wanders off to the table to get another glass. Corvo takes this opportunity to follow in another room for some gossip. That room is much emptier, save for a few guests in conversation. They drop their whispers even lower when Corvo enters, and even they leave soon. To his surprise, Corvo finds himself alone entirely in the small room where music cannot reach and where light is faded.

It is only a few moments later that he realises why.

The Outsider steps from around the corner where he most definitely wasn’t present seconds ago. His face bears a small smile, a smug one. Corvo slips the mask off. 

“Enjoying the party, Corvo?”

Corvo staggers on the spot, realising that punch has done more to his body than he expected, and catches a hold of the wall mould decor, scraping nails on it. The Outsider catches his hand and pulls him away from the central room column.

Corvo finds himself in a dance stance and absolutely unprepared for it.

“There is no need to fear. No one will see, we are allowed a little bit of entertainment. This is what this ball is for, alas not for many, but in its origins. You can dance, Corvo, of that I am aware. I admit to have seen you dancing with the Empress on occassion or two. Or more.”

Corvo feels alcohol talking bravery in him and he slides a confident arm around the deity’s waist as if to prove his dancing ability. He would have had a major crisis over doing this has his mind been more sober. But softened by punch, inducing playfulness in him, Corvo does whatever alcohol tells him. Alcohol, or the desire he has always had but has never given much thought to.

“A dangerous venture, Corvo, being quite so reckless at a party where your target is present. She is unaware of the danger you pose. Indeed, to all the nobility in this house you are a scandal, a gossip for the next few weeks, a puzzle to solve. _Oh the audacity!_ they say. _Who would dare?_ they wonder _._ ”

Corvo shrugs and pulls the Outsider in slow rhythm of music that the deity allows to seep into the frozen moment in time. It sounds distant, delayed, stretched, but Corvo doesn’t mind. It helps his mind catch up. He curls his fingers a little over the Outsider’s jacket and presses him closer. The Outsider’s skin that he feels with his leading hand is in-between of warm and cold, he barely feels it.

“Are you enjoying the thrill of a hunt, Corvo? Tagging behind your enemy, holding a blade to her throat as she remains oblivious of your presence. Her life’s thread is curled around your fingers, but which one will you pull at? What you will choose is the question of the ball tonight, not the face of the Lady Boyle behind the mask.”

Corvo moves the Outsider slowly in a dance, holding his hand with the absence of his usual reverence. Somehow what the Outsider says slips past his mind, because all he can focus on is the god’s face. He has rarely been so close, allowing a small distance between them always. It’s been days since Corvo started wishing he could look in the blackness of the Outsider’s eyes, study wrinkles on his otherwise young face. This is a chance he has, even if all the details he is craving for are hiding in the dim light of the room, golden speckles dancing off the Outsider’s pale skin as they sneak through time pause.

He catches one of them by pressing, for the lack of a better word, a smooch to the Outsider’s cheek, right to where the gold dust light plays on his face.

The god is as startled as Corvo who has sprung to sobriety. His mind races at the thought of what he has just done, of the awareness of how steadily his hand rests on the god’s waist. He pulls away in panic, but the Outsider holds him back.

“The music is not over yet, Corvo. It is bad manners to run away from a dance with your partner,” the Outsider says, returning Corvo’s hand to rest firmly on his side and clenching another hand in Corvo’s leading one. He concedes, falling back into the dragged rhythm which seems to be getting slower and slower. The world plays with odd colours, seeping through the timelessness with golden dust.

It still dances and flickers on the Outsider’s face, and even if Corvo makes no move to kiss it off, he is all too aware of it.

His lips tingle warmly.

“The events of this day are entirely in your hands, Corvo. Just as what will happen tomorrow and the day after. I look forward to it.”

As the Outsider leaves the party, taking the Void with him, Corvo wonders what he meant - Lady Boyle’s future or something else?


	4. Day 4 - Almost A Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

When he falls to the floor, scratching his face on the caps of the nails in the floorboards, hitting his knees, all he wants is to fall asleep and never wake up. Poison pulses through his veins, voices of friends and foes alike ringing in his ears. He would fight them if there were any energy and strength left in his limbs, but his body is already rejecting reality.

At least in the Void poison holds no power over him.

The Outsider does, however, but gently so. One moment Corvo remembers him standing in front of him, ever so mysterious and uncaring, arms crossed. Next moment the Outsider kneels beside him, temperatureless hands resting atop of his.

“I cannot make it stop, Corvo, that is beyond my reach. The events must unravel by your hand. I can only hold it for a while to give you a moment’s peace.”

The Outsider’s hand sneaks in-between Corvo’s, finding warmth there. Corvo holds him like this, rings digging in his skin softly as if they are the only real item there. He shifts, tries to turn, but his head is heavy as lead. His eyes hurt when he tries to look, but luckily the Outsider’s face hovers right above him, curious black eyes blinking.

Corvo finds himself smiling. His face is unmasked, he can try and breathe freely.

“Lying on the brink of death, almost slipped into the Void to forever be lost to the world of the living, and you are smiling, of all things! Such creature you are, Corvo, if only I could understand you. But this is why you fascinate me so.”

Something important is being said, a meaning behind the words that don’t voice it, and Corvo tries to find that meaning by peeling off the many truths. But as he lies there, flat on his back and pressed to the cold marble stone, his is open and without secrets. Perhaps, this is why he is smiling. It is, after all, what he likes to do when looking at the deity that burst into his life without invitation and made himself quite comfortable.

Right by his side, sitting and with hands still in Corvo’s. It prevents him from making any gestures, but he suspects the Outsider can hear his every single thought anyway. He tries not to think much, because somehow in the Void the real world weighs less and Emily’s fate seems suspended in mid-time. When, if, Corvo awakes, he will push on and save his daughter. But right now, trapped in the moment, he can relish what has been offered him willingly.

To his surprise and without any chance of moving away, Corvo watches the Outsider lean closer. He rests sharp elbows on Corvo’s chest, tilts his head to the left to look in the man’s face. He seems to know nothing about personal boundaries, or maybe he knows Corvo doesn’t mind. In any case, whatever is the god’s fancy, he is close enough to feel Corvo’s poisoned breath and hear his every heartbeat.

Somehow, even that weight doesn’t hurt.

“You have a beautiful face, Corvo.”

It makes him huff out what would be a laugh. It’s an odd compliment, but he accepts it with an appreciative nod. He looks at the Outsider’s face, sharp and well-featured, high cheekbones and a jaw that begs for a trace of his finger. To Corvo, the god is beautiful, and it is not because of all his charm and trickery, not because of the black swirling nothing around him. It’s a small fire burning in Corvo’s heart that tells him that the Outsider’s face is beautiful and he accepts the truth without hesitation.

“I have never been called such,” the god admits, referring to Corvo’s thoughts. “I am not certain how it is relevant, by which I mean my appearance should hardly cause any emotion in you, apart from acknowledging its existence. But to you it seems important. Why?”

Corvo shakes his head. What is he to say? That the Outsider’s face is like a magnet to his thoughts, an image in his vivid nightly dreams, a craving as of late? Something he wishes he could touch and be touched in return.

The Outsider’s fingers come to trace the line over Corvo’s nose bridge, down to the tip and falling down his lips. It makes Corvo freeze even more so on the ground, his breathing pausing for a second.

“Do you wish me to do it?”

He doesn’t know what the Outsider exactly means, but realises what it is when the deity leans in, his black eyes unblinking and open wide. He is so close, and Corvo shuts his own eyes close…

He can almost feel his touch on his lips, almost feels it, but it never happens. When he opens his eyes again, it is the Flooded District that meets his gaze, the wooden cover of his prison in the whalers’ hideout.

A ghost of a kiss still dances off his lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small but meaningful kiss today :)
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

The Flooded District is long behind him, but there is still the whalers’ magic buzzing in his ears and Daud’s face swimming in his mind’s eye.

As he stumbles and pushes through the sewer labyrinth, tripping over bones of rats and weepers, Corvo tries to focus only on the path ahead. He doesn't mind the river krust biting him or the cold burning of water on his skin or the ache when he hits his head on a pipe. Anything is a distraction enough when he tries to will his doubts away.

Was it right to let Daud go? Was it all he could do to avenge his love's death? Even if it happened half a year ago, it  _ did _ happen, leaving a scar not only on the Empire, but on his own heart.

Numbed by his own scattered thinking, he deals with anything that comes in his path and awakes from his thoughtful slumber only when Granny Rags’s screams fade away into the crying of sewer water. It’s just another obstacle, a madwoman with a claim for a god’s heart.

When he finds the Outsider's shrine in a now deceased old witch's hideout, it is almost a soothing song that the rune on a pedestal is singing to him. He listens to its tinkling for a little, brushes the carved-in symbol of his otherworldly benefactor, of his gentle balm that comes from the darkest shadows.

When the Outsider, drawn into the world by a touch to a rune, appears before Corvo, he already knows of Daud's fate. Corvo wastes no time for comments or explanation because he barely has any himself. Only the unwillingness to kill and Jessamine's statue in the Flooded District, her stone eyes almost alive, have been enough to make him pause and think, and in the end - let go. Jessamine wouldn't have forgiven, but neither did he. She wouldn't have spared him, but  _ he  _ did.

"My dear Corvo," the Outsider’s voice seems to be coming from the walls, from the things around, from the purple tapestries that decorate his shrine. "Compassion and forgiveness are not an easy pill for a man who is sick with grief. Be proud that you have it in you."

Corvo smiles sadly. He is still holding a rune, its vibe tickling his fingers. When the Outsider speaks, the rune seems to catch his voice like a bird in a cage.   
Corvo wants to steer the conversation away from his own choices and gestures at the god,  _ has none of your marked ones ever faced a choice like this _ ?

"They have, many a time, like any person would. It is their final choices that matter, never comparing to yours. People who i gifted access to the Void’s magic followed a steer of the fate’s stream, never questioning, condemning themselves to existence as rotten broken people. Not once did they wonder if there is perhaps another path. You, on the other hand…”

He steps around Corvo, his voice - a delicate touch of words on his nape, making little hairs stand.

"But regardless of what they did, it is you that I marked out among the rest. I must not have favourites, Corvo, but there is no one to dictate the rules to a god.”

Corvo turns to look at him, feeling the Outsider’s chest press to his arm. Much to Corvo’s surprise, the deity leans in to kiss rough folds of fabric of his coat. The gesture is odd and Corvo looks at the god in confusion, mesmerized of how the Outsider’s lips are carefully touched the fabric.

He gestures his question regardless.

The Outsider measures him with arched brows and a lack of a smile, seriousness in his tone as he replies.

“A kiss is a kiss, Corvo, what does it matter  _ where _ I kiss? Is it not the way people express affection?”

Corvo huffs out a surprised laugh, but instead of pulling away as any other person would probably do, he leans in to press his forehead to the Outsider’s. Soft short fringe tickles his face and black eyes are ever so close, staring at him. He can see a circle of almost silver irises within the blackness. His nose touches the Outsider’s in a fond tender gesture that feels like a search for affection and touch more than anything. The Outsider tips his face up a little, but Corvo, though drawn to his lips more than to anything, does not lean in to kiss. Contents himself to brushing the tip of his nose over the Outsider’s, and the deity returns to kiss his shoulder over the coat.

This is the strangest kiss he has ever received, but it is the meaning that strikes him. The last thing he expected upon his return to Dunwall, after his Empress’s death, after escaping Coldridge, is to get his heart mingled and trapped with affections for a black-eyed deity that thinks kisses may as well be anywhere, if it is care that they convey.

It’s not the worst thing to happen to a man.


	6. Day 6 - Kiss For Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are progressing through the plot, yay!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Corvo is waiting by the shore, listening to the soft whisper of Wrenhaven river waves along the sand. The signal has been made and if Samuel is still alive, he will come to pick Corvo up at any moment. He stands with his back pressed to the building. It’s almost meaningful, turning back to what once harboured him in safety, what was a beacon of hope in the middle of darkness and unrest. Now, with the coup instigators eliminated and with one final goal left, Corvo stands one final time in a place that no longer feels like home. It is odd not to hear any gun shots, any chatter of the guards, any persistent drilling of anxiety that comes with being a target to enemies.

Samuel's boat is coming from the horizon, a small dot that would take at least five minutes to become a proper item in the landscape. And till then Corvo has time to rest. He sighs heavily, letting air through his lips and licking at them as they dry.

He is almost not surprised when everything around him drowns in and drains of time as the world grows still with the Outsider's presence. He leans to the wall next to Corvo and watches the distance disturb in the Void's fluid power.

"The last push, Corvo. Are you ready to face your enemies and possibly end it once and for all?"

Corvo sighs and shrugs. Ready or not, it is a task he must complete.

"I have come to wish you luck."

The Outsider's statement makes Corvo turn to him in surprise. For a god who never interferes, he has certainly taken a lot of trouble to help Corvo pull through the mess of events that forever changed the future of the Empire. It sounds small in his mind, but as he gives it more thought, the notion seems terrifying, with him standing in the very center of the turning point. One hand is holding onto a sword he never had to use and another holds onto the Outsider’s, a guide through pain and grief and misery.

He arches a brow at the Outsider and gestures at him.  _ Why? _

The Outsider laughs softly and hums.

"Did I not mention, Corvo, that you are my favorite?"

_ Is it the only reason you help? _ The Outsider steps to the side and suddenly Corvo finds himself face to face with a deity, his chest mere inches away from his. If he could, he would need only to reach out for his hands to rest on the Outsider’s waist. But it’s a craving he cannot delight, cannot allow himself to just yet.

"I wouldn't want you to get hurt, Corvo."

The Outsider makes a shushing gesture when Corvo tries to sign at him, and then does the inexplicable.

Finger kissed, the deity presses it to Corvo's lips.

"The Empire may fall or it may not, but in any turn of events I wouldn't want to see you hurt or hurting. So take this, for luck."

His finger presses harder onto Corvo's mouth, and Corvo doesn’t go against the Outsider’s odd gesture of care and accepts the gentle touch of a finger, kisses a soft pad.

But surprises, that make Corvo's stomach lurch and explode in butterflies, don't end there. The Outsider leans closer, tips his face up until his lips rest on his own finger. Corvo doesn't feel a single whiff of air, only sighs in the deity's mouth, one that teases him, makes him yearn. Perhaps, even promises him.

The Outsider’s eyes flutter closed but Corvo watches. His arms feel loose and free and his chest pounds with heartbeat. The Outsider is his medicine, his support, and he doesn’t know when exactly his heart melt for the strange black-eyed god. But he thinks of their lips met at last for even one brief moment he would have given no more thought to it, only relished in this new feeling that, perhaps, Jessamine herself sent to him, his guardian spirit.

For the longest time after she was gone Corvo wondered if he could have another dear person to hold in his arms. It was always a possibility that he and Jessamine would have to walk a different path, but as years went by, the possibility melted away with their love and with Emily in their life. Death of one was not expected. But even so, Corvo knew that shall one of them face a choice of losing another, they would strive to move on for each other’s sake. And now…

Is it this new dear person, a god, an entity of the Void, this wonderful creature that Corvo was bestowed with to hold and care about? Is fate a wicked or a clever thing?

Corvo feels the Outsider’s upper lip move over his own finger and brushing Corvo’s mouth. Such a tiny touch, and yet makes Corvo yearn for more.

The Outsider withdraws, taking the stop time with him and leaving an intense taste of ocean in Corvo's mouth. The slightest touch, Corvo's lips having met with a millimeter of the Outsider’s for the briefest second and yet…

This kiss that never happened is the least breakable promise he has ever received. Tingling imprint of a god's mouth, even if ghostly, is a boon enough to try and succeed to receive it in full. A reason to move on That, and Emily's future which he hopes he will live to see.

The kiss of the Outsider is worth living for.


	7. Day 7 - First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You waited, you got it ;)
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

It’s the first night of a new era. Returned to the Tower, little Empress sleeps her sweet dreams, while her ever vigilant Protector wanders the garden. He is not the only one awake. The city shines, people breath out in relief and even the Weepers sense hope. Lights around the Tower shining brightly as if to acknowledge that the Imperial family is safe once more. The Tower is a lighthouse today, a different one, a beacon of hope for the people of Dunwall.

Tomorrow and in days to come Corvo will be uplifted, thanked. But today he has a right and time to be nothing but a shadow in the greenery of the Tower, hidden from the view.

The night is thick and cold, rainy. Specks and drops flash through the air, drip down the green tree leaves and pine needles, falling on Corvo’s hair and making them damp a little. Corvo runs his hand over his locks and lowers the hood further down. A gulp of cool air, rain on his face is refreshing.

He doesn’t even notice that the world is one with the Void again, but does notice the black-eyed deity stepping to him, hands clasped behind his back. He looks serene, neutral, an unmoving rock amidst a violent sea. He gestures widely around the garden, and Corvo catches his hands to bring closer for a kiss. Feeling light, almost high on the sense of freedom, he is inclined to be affectionate. Tonight, he is allowed.

“My dear Corvo,” the Outsider chants softly, allowing Corvo’s lips to touch his fingers. Corvo kisses the back of his hand, moves over the delicate fingers, tastes the metal of the god’s rings that weigh down his hands. The Outsider does not pull away, instead steps forward to close space between them. Corvo places his hand on his shoulder, and the Outsider still does not resist. He tilts his head, speaks like a whisper. “Heroes are lauded for their actions, their names are risen to that of mine. Tomorrow you will awake with your name in everyone’s mouth. They will name you the Empire’s Protector, not just the Empress’s. Are you ready for the world’s love and hate?”

Corvo smiles down. In truth, he knows that with such a burden will come many sleepless nights, stressful days. Teaching Emily, eliminating what remains of the rotten system that Hiram Burrows raised. But it is tomorrow, and today, he reminds himself, is a time for affections.

_ My concern lies with Emily and the Empire. I will embrace what is to come. _

He frees his hands to sign only for a moment before returning them to the Outsider’s waist, fingers circling over his sides. He is smiling still, he cannot stop his mouth from curling up. The Outsider’s eyes have a gleam that matches the night sky, and his features look oddly soft in the sharp and angled shadows. He talks and talks, and Corvo enjoys listening to his voice, but he knows he could put that mouth to a better use right now, when no words are needed.

His arms slide over the Outsider’s back, pressing him close, all but slamming him in Corvo’s chest, and Corvo leans down.

Their kiss is breathless, Corvo’s arms strong around the god’s body, almost lifting him up, and the Outsider pushes forward without hesitation, sucking on Corvo’s lips, breathless entirely. All his words vanish from thin air, swept aside as unnecessary because this is what he came for. Perhaps, they both waited for it to happen and now any pause would be painful, unwelcome. The Outsider raises his hands to hold Corvo’s face and he relishes in the gentle touch. He kisses with all the affection, tasting ocean and rain and warmth. The Outsider’s lips know nothing of how to move in rhythm, how to capture a kiss off Corvo’s lips properly. But he learns as Corvo kisses him, covers his mouth warmly and lovingly.

He steps back and hits the tree trunk. Branches, their dark green wet, hide the couple away, even if no one can see them in the stilled time. Corvo turns around and it is now the Outsider with his back to the tree.

They look at each other, the Outsider’s finger gently rubbing a line of shallow cheeks of Corvo’s face. His gaze flickers from dark eyes to wet thin lips, and Corvo’s gaze does too.

“It is a boon I can gift you, Corvo. This one time.”

He smiles and Corvo reads something sad in the god’s features, his eyes seeking Corvo’s face almost hungrily. He frowns at him, but the Outsider smiles again. And Corvo kisses his smile, allows himself the frivolity and boldness of licking at the god’s lips, running tongue over them as they part. The Outsider lets out the softest sigh of relief and content. His arms circle around Corvo’s neck, and this warmth, this embrace, is all that matters under the branches of a tall pine tree.

When they pull away again, it seems the time has no moved for a second. And it did not. Corvo’s eyes are set on the Outsider’s and he cups his cheek, feeling for the sharp cheekbones and soft skin.

“There are such trials before you, Corvo. You will have to face them, learn to accept and to move on. Moving on is… essential.”

_ But I have your blessing, do I not. I have you. _

The Outsider smiles at that and leans in Corvo’s touch, closing black eyes for a moment.

“Yes.”

This is the least the god has ever said, a one small word, a one small kiss, a one longer deeper kiss to last for countless minutes more because time does not exist.

“No matter what, Corvo, you must move on.”

Only when time restores and the Outsider leaves, his presence marked only by Corvo’s reddened wet lips and increased heartbeat, only then does Corvo understand that moving on might involve more than he is ready to sacrifice.

A whole god more.


	8. Day 8 - Desperate Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hit me, thank you c:  
> For all the pain please blame bluebeholder :3
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Six years of torment. Corvo feels numb from the ache of yearning in his heart, how it throbs and bothers him. Not a day goes by without remembering the god’s guidance, without thinking of his voice, without dreaming of gentle lips that kissed once and never again. Not a word, not a vision from the Outsider, only vacant space and his mark, ever powerful, remain.

With Emily and Empire in his hands, Corvo has little time to devote to seeking out shrines or runes. And apart from that his position made it a necessity to hide the mark away, to give as little reason for suspicion as possible. He cannot look at it or in any way betray its presence. Not when the Overseers are being rebuilt, not when he meets with so many people on a daily basis. Society, its demands, are taking their toll and slowly Corvo’s mind shifts away during the day. Only when he is alone, sleepless and bothered and hurting, can he be outward with his affections for the Outsider who is nowhere to be seen.

And so it is six years of torment to that night.

For a second he closes his eyes, and then wakes up as if drowsy and heavy. His body is instantly aware of a presence, of touches, embraced with warmth and heat of his body and of another one. He feels it through leather on his skin, through lips that desperately torture his mouth for love and he moves against that mouth ardently, recognizing the curve of lips and the taste of a tongue.

Is it a dream, is it true, he can't find the border between them and how to plunge into one.

"Corvo..."

The Outsider whispers in his mouth as he kisses. Corvo pulls away as much as he can on the pillow, which is only inches away, looks in the black yearning eyes. The Outsider breathes no air on him, only the whiff of ocean and something metal. "Why are you making it so hard to stay away? The further you drift away, the more I want to pull you to me. Your life, your duties are a priority, and I dare not interfere, and yet your--"

Corvo knows every single thing he wants to say and prevents the words from spilling by running a hand through the Outsider's hair and dragging him closer, crushing mouths and relishing. It's all ocean and void again in his mouth, it's the Outsider all over him and he can't for the love of him bother with explanations or apologies or statements of fate. He escapes a kiss for a brief moment to let his lips wander the Outsider’s face, kissing the corner of his mouth, the angle of a jaw, mouth and lick on his chin and below it, making the deity shiver above him. He listens to gasps of air and delights in making the god need to breathe when he never does.

What Corvo hasn't had a chance to explore during their last kiss, he does now, thoroughly. Every crack of lips, every curve and imperfection of flesh. His eyes are closed, all of his being concentrated on an eager mouth that tries to make up for lost time.

He feels the Outsider moving up, shifting on him, their legs tangling. The Outsider embraces him, bringing them even closer. The clasps and buttons of his jacket imprint on Corvo's chest as much as the god's kiss on his lips.

He pulls away again, just half an inch, enough to have a glimpse of black eyes and red lips.

His hands are hopelessly trapped between the two of them, and as much as he manages, certain that even if he can't say it out loud, the god will hear his thoughts, will feel his words.

He signs,  _ I missed you so much. _

The Outsider blinks rapidly before leaning in again with force. Painful are the lips of a god when he captures Corvo's again. His face moves softly away for a brief moment again, to the side now, check pressed to cheek, and Corvo is surprised to feel wetness on his skin. It rolls down his own cheek, a tear that is not his own. 

All he can do is gently rub the tip of his nose over the Outsider's face and find his mouth for more kisses, more love, more soothing. 

...His eyes open. Intricately painted ceiling looks over him and for some reason Corvo thinks it is not what he thought he'd see. His gaze traces golden and blue swirls of the pattern, catches patches of sunlight over the painting. But it is not what he expected to see, yet what it is escapes his memory, and in frustration he shifts on the bed to turn to the side. 

An ache so strange burdens him. He can't place what makes him feel so broken, imagines it had to be a dream. Perhaps, he dreamt something unwanted, hurting. Then he is glad his mind chose to forget. 

He tries to shrug the feeling off for the entire day, but it feels as if the whole Tower, if not the world beyond it, is cast into sadness. He finds Emily crying in her room, and the guards seem miserable, and even old maid Lucy gives him a surprisingly strong hug. 

They say the whales sung that day, louder than ever, mournful lullabies to the city. And Corvo still doesn't know why the song fits his chest so well. 


	9. Day 9 - Reunion Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the mood for being vague and purple prosey today!
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

If anything, Corvo had enough time to make peace with people that are no longer present in his life. He is not an optimist, a cruel realist, but it allows him to live the day, to appreciate what he has, be it memories or something closer. Jessamine left him a daughter, and the Outsider left him a mark. Both gifts he carries fondly and tries his best to remember how much joy they bring to his life. Emily grows up to become a fine Empress, wise, confident,  _ his _ daughter. 

And the mark is other things. It’s a kiss that never fades from the memory, a tool to power and protection, a reminder that somewhere out there in the distant endless Void the god lives on. Whoever’s choice it was to not see each other again, Corvo merely pushes on. Life demands it from him.

But then everything falls to pieces. The Empire he and Emily nurtured is gone as they know it, his daughter cast in stone and a witch sitting upon her throne. Delilah took his one gift, and then another. The mark fades from his hand by the witch’s magic, and he is left with nothing but memories, fear, loneliness.

Only now does it occur to him how much he relied on the product of the past and memory. Emptiness fills his chest, as if he can’t find his way back, as if cut off from the world entirely. The journey out of the Tower and to the Dreadful Wale seems like a dream sequence where he is but a spectator. His legs carry him down the roofs, his habit helps him remember the way. But his eyes look elsewhere and his heart pounds from the pain of loss, regret and fear.

Even when he reaches the ship to take him to his homeland, no reassurance or relief comes to him. Panic engulfs him, events of the day threatening to explode his mind with flashes and recollections. The unclear journey ahead makes him uneasy, and he almost feels naked because there is no soothing whisper of the Void, no burning in his hand through the inky traces of the Outsider’s mark.

It’s almost a blessing to wake up in the Void. He knows it instantly, from the way the world shifts and freezes, so unlike the reality people are used to. The Void fills him up, makes him light and heavy at the same time. The Dreadful Wale is but a wreck in it, bits and pieces fallen off the destroyed wall of his little cabin.

There is longing in the air. It pulls at him, drags him across the rugged rocks and hills of black matter, up to where the Outsider has to be waiting.

It is as if fifteen years haven’t passed since their last meeting. Ever so young, mouth unstoppable and talking. He seems lively and if Corvo didn’t know better, he would have said the god was nervous. Tugging at fingers and speaking too fast, words tripping over each other. Corvo listens because the Outsider’s voice is a comfort he has been longing for. It’s a joy he has been deprived of for years. Now that he hears it again, in the desperate time of need, he soaks it in, drinks it in.

Takes it all in. It’s too easy to reach out and have his hands taken in the Outsider’s hold. His skin burns for a brief moment under the deity’s lips, and blossoming from the kissed spot, his mark appears, the familiarity of it making Corvo sigh too loudly with relief.

His hands are free from hold and the longing returns to make the air heavy, tense and calling. He follows it, blinking and drinking in the pleasure of it, pulsing through his body, surges of the Void’s power calling to his every sensation. He wonders if the prize is awaiting in the end, the Outsider with his arms spread, if he still wants him.

But it is another gift. Jessamine’s heart, her soul glowing and burning like glory. Her voice pours down his throat and he chokes on it, memory mixed with guilt.

Her heart rests warmly in his hands, beating steadily, whispering in his ear as he squeezes it. The Outsider watches with his face neutral, and Corvo wants to kiss his lips away to make them lively, make them sigh in his mouth or curl in a smile.

_ “You hold a heart of someone you loved. And now you hold two.” _

Corvo’s gaze flicks to the Outsider, who is in a vicinity for the heart to read him. Almost instantly Corvo’s fingers press on the heart again, and Jessamine continues spilling the secrets out.

_ “He never loved another, but even a god's fate changes.” _

His breathing hitches. Guilt stings his eyes, makes his chest heavy. Can he truly love another, when his first love is still alive in one form or another? A question he has asked himself multiple times before and never had a proper answer. The Outsider looks at him almost sheepishly, black eyes blinking and staring. He steps closer.

_ “It does not diminish love for a memory to love a living person.” _

“It does not,” the Outsider echoes, when Corvo pockets the heart and it melts away to be summoned later. There is another weight in his hands again, the Outsider’s fingers lacing with his, and he raises their hands and pushes, forward and forward until there is suddenly a wall of black matter and so little space to move and breathe.

The shrine’s magnificent fabrics waver on the Void’s wind, dust of time floating by. It feels like a small world, even if it has no boundaries, no beginning and no end. In that little corner, the deity is trapped in a lock of arms that hold him tight, press him to the wall. Corvo crowds him, pins his hands to the rock, presses closer until his and the Outsider’s foreheads touch. The deity smiles, teasing him with a tip of his head and his lips mere quarter of an inch away. Corvo’s body trembles.

When he leans in, the Outsider’s voice whispers from everywhere, his voice in the wind, in his ears and in his blood, in their kiss that starts as nothing but gentle touches and turns into passionate making out where air is lacking and lips are desperate.

The Outsider’s voice says, “It was foolish to move on, for you and for me. For once I implore you not to heed my advice.”

Corvo smiles in the Outsider’s mouth, embraces him tighter and presses harder into him, his chest closing over the Outsider as he pins him to the wall. He replies not with words or gestures, but with a deeper sweeter kiss, his tongue relentlessly sliding over sharp teeth, circling over the Outsider’s own, his mouth covering the god’s warmly and without hesitation. He kisses faster, more ardently with every inhale, with every rough move of lips.

He does not pull away. Not when the Void holds the two of them in a place and time where that time does not matter.

Tomorrow will be another day, but right now, that which Corvo chooses to live, he kisses the Outsider, and the Outsider kisses him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to bluebeholder for helping with lines for the Heart! <3


	10. Day 10 - Underwater Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to roll a dice for the idea, and I am pleased with how it worked out :3
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Last time he had to take up such a long journey out in the sea was for traveling home after a fruitless trip across the Isles in search of help for the plague. This time, he flees, because the Empire has crumbled again and was left in his hands to restore. It would have been harder, have Meagan and the Outsider not been there to give him company.

Meagan is reserved around him, thoughtful. She speaks little and only to the point, but her judgement is wise and sharp. They share peaceful sunsets and bottles of harsh wine on the deck, bathing in burning sunlight. They discuss politics and plan their move once they reach Karnaca. It helps Corvo keep his mind busy and his hands never tire from small talk gesturing.

The Outsider is a company of a different kind entirely. Sometimes Corvo thinks he lives two lives, because as soon as his head touches the pillow, his body lulled by the sway of the ship, his eyes open to the familiar outlines of the Void. The Outsider is always there, invariably so, with his arms offered in a gentle reach and his voice - a sweet caress of nothings and somethings. They too discuss plans and politics, but those conversations are intertwined with hot mouths and warm embraces. 

And like this Corvo hops from sunset to dawn, killing time till the Dreadful Wale cuts through the sea towards Karnaca.

They stop the ship for a while amidst a quiet sea one sunny morning. Meagan works on catching some fish for them to eat for the rest of the journey, while Corvo, ignoring Meagan’s arched brow, takes a swim in the still waters. Whales and hagfish barely scare him, not when the Heart is telling him that somewhere below the water level is a rune. He strips to a bare minimum and slides into cold water on the other side of a ship as to not to disturb the fishing.

It feels pleasant. Massive power of water presses on him and with swings of his arms he pushes through it. His Dark Vision makes the murky green water accessible for his sight and he amuses himself by looking at the schools of little fishies, at a shadow of a whale at a great-great distance, at all the kelp and seaweed. He swims back to the surface for a gulp of air and dives back in, this time with the Heart summoned to his hand. Softly and warmly pulsing, it guides him to where the rune is. There is a shape of a sunken ship deep down below, cradled by sands and mud. Corvo swims to it, feeling water turning colder and colder by every jolt forward.

The ship is a small one, cracked and ruined with time. It looks like nothing at all, no possessions, no remains to tell Corvo who it may have belonged to. But as predicted, there is a rune inside its carcass, buzzing and glittering, calling for Corvo to reach out and touch it.

He smiles as he takes it in his hand, holds tight on it. When he turns around, however, he is met with another someone.

The Dark Vision dissipates, and he chokes. Air comes out of his mouth in a burst of small bubbles, depriving him of oxygen completely. He knows he has mere seconds to get back, but the surface is all too far, dim and distant.

The Outsider, the one who is before him, looks unperturbed by this, his hand reaching out to graze over Corvo’s cheekbones, down to his collarbone and his chest. His mouth moves, but the voice comes from the very water itself, resounding in Corvo’s ears.

“Fear not. The way to the Void is near at such depths. I would not let you, my dear Corvo, die from something so trivial as suffocating underwater.”

He floats freely in water and seems to defy the physics of it entirely. His arms reach out and bring Corvo closer, wrap around him. Corvo feels dizzy, his head swimming with the lack of oxygen. It is then that the Outsider leans in and covers his mouth wide and hot, his tongue eagerly pushing at Corvo’s lips and making him open up. Corvo succumbs, and much to his surprise, as soon as he returns the kiss, oxygen all but pours in his lungs. It makes him even dizzier, light headed and reckless. He pulls the god’s body against his own, running hands through short hair and feeling the gesture returned by long strong fingers in his mane. The kiss is passionate and melting, and Corvo gives all of himself to it.

When he opens his eyes to look at the Outsider, it is not the greenery of kelp and water that surrounds him, but the familiar landscape of the Void.

“In the sea expanse where the whales swim, the Void is just at a stone’s throw,” the Outsider says, finding a comfortable position in Corvo’s embrace, his movements familiar and cozy. He kisses the corner of Corvo’s mouth, smiling sheepishly. He kisses his cheek and his brow. Corvo smiles at him and shakes his head - sometimes the Outsider is insufferably teasing. And when a kiss lands on his lips, Corvo presses closer to the Outsider with a content smile, allowing him to warm against his bare chest and keep his hands wherever the deity pleases.

Somehow Meagan does not question Corvo’s return not back from the sea water, but emerging from his quarters warm and dry. All he can do is smile and bite at his well-kissed lips.


	11. Day 11 - Comfortable kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this is shorter than planned and I am sleepy and lazy... :(  
> Perhaps, I'll come back and edit it some time later!
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Karnaca is a rugged line painted across the horizon, drawing nearer with every day. Corvo both anticipates and fears reaching it, because it will mean the end of a peaceful journey, a danger to him at any time, his life hanging on a thread. And while the mark of the Outsider will warm his hand, the god himself will be absent from his side.

But not today.

Corvo lies on his bunk, eyes closed and his mind lulled by the sway of a ship. He is pleasantly exhausted, having been out in the sun all day. Karnaca is warm, it's climate humid. The cabin is stifling, having no access to fresh air. Corvo sighs and turns on his side, staring at the plated ceiling. His eyes close in exhaustion of the day, and he imagines the swaying waves on the horizon, the wordless conversations with Billie and the many hours of training in the burn of a Sun. Now he wants peace and moving as little as he has to, arms crossed under his head. His skin tingles from after the sunbathing, and Corvo tries to drown the soft pain in cold sheets of his bunk. But even that is soon impossible as the room loses cool air with every inhale.

In an instant the room is plunged into cold. Currents of nonexistent air bring a scent of the sea with it. It's a familiar smell and Corvo smiles before the avatar of the Void appears before him. 

“It is wise of you to take time to enjoy the freedoms of the boundless sea, preparing for what you are soon to face.”

_ Do not talk _ , Corvo gestures and waves him off.  _ The sun has dazzled me and I do not wish to move too much to reply. _

“I think, Corvo, it is only you coming up with excuses to invite me to sit with you.”

_ Please do _ , Corvo grins, moving to the wall and patting space beside him, where sheets are crumpled and heated. The Outsider sits down, the bunk sagging beneath him a little bit. He looks down gently, his eyes a soothing black, barely gleaming in the darkness of the cabin. Corvo looks up, watching the dim light surround the Outsider’s head like a halo. He looks holy, and he wants to kiss the godly lips.

Corvo sits up and reaches out to place hands on the Outsider’s shoulders, squeezing them gently and pulling. The Outsider complies, allows Corvo to pull on his shoulders and press him back. He lies softly beside him, and Corvo turns to lean on his arm, placed next to the Outsider's waist. He hovers over him, the god suddenly smaller, more vulnerable, pliant to his bidding. 

Corvo is still smiling, leaning down to kiss the Outsider. The deity's hands rise to cup his face, keeping him close. The kiss is a comforting gesture, one that makes Corvo's body go relaxed and easy. He allows his body to carefully fit next to the Outsider, and with one powerful motion he pulls the void close by his waist. How the Outsider remains so pliant is a mystery, but Corvo tries not to question it. The Outsider smiles and engages him in a kiss again. They are unhurried, dispassionate, comfortable in each other's caress. 

Corvo pulls away and rests head on his pillow, his face will ever so close to the Outsider. 

_ I wish there was peace _ .  _ And you were there next to me, in the Tower.  _

"What if someone walked in on us? The god, feared by the Abbey, in the arms of none other than the Lord Protector. It would have made the front page of Dunwall Courier immediately." 

Corvo huffs, meaning that the Outsider should stop with his nonsense. The God chuckles.

_ Let them watch. _

Corvo leans in and comforts in a gentle touch of the Outsider’s lips. Their kiss is slow, languid, and Corvo cannot help smiling. Even if the world falls crumbling tomorrow, it is right now that matters. And right now, he is in a sweet embrace of the Outsider, savouring his lips slowly and gently, and wanting for nothing else but this to go on.


	12. Day 12 - Soothing kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot stop with them kisses :D This turned out tooth-rotting fluff, I guess.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Walking Karnaca feels like passing through a graveyard. Familiar street names and turns of avenues that he once ran, people’s faces seem familiar like a comforting cradle and lullaby of his mother. But they are also different, and the place feels polluted by the dark presence of the new Empress. Wherever he goes, her face haunts and taunts him from posters, hanging all over. Banners glaring, telling him that the Empire he helped nurture was now taken out of his hands. 

Still, Corvo tries his best to keep his face straight, power of the Void leashed and grief held back. It is his fuel, his driving force, helping him make jumps between the schisms of streets. That and the ever present blessing of a black-eyed god, following him with every move. He can’t help but press gentle kisses to the Mark, knowing full well that the Outsider feels it. His lips are brief but gentle, a mute ‘thank you’ when a particularly complicated jump succeeds or when the Dark Vision helps him avoid danger of being noticed.

Of course, much like Dunwall, Karnaca is full of scattered shrines and runes, the Heart picking up on their presence. Bonecharms, buzzing runes are waiting for Corvo to pick them up, teasing and calling for him. 

The first shrine he finds makes him feel conflicted. Place cleared out both of its previous owner, a supposed fanatic, and of the investigating Overseers, it reeks of dark magic and overestimated worship. Corvo looks at the shrine, at the scurried writings on the wall, black lines all but scorched into wallpaper and tiles. His gaze pauses on the Outsider’s portrait, both close to the original and yet so far. There is no gentleness in his gaze and his face is far too shallow. His hands are depicted nearly not as soft and delicate as they are. And the loving gleam of his black eyes is nowhere present. Corvo almost prays to see what he sees their every meeting, and falls to his knees before the shrine. He does not pray per se, only reaches out to pick up the runes, when the room drowns in the dark and he finds himself drawn into the Void.

The Outsider stands beside him, ignoring the portrait and staring at Corvo. There it is, Corvo rejoices, the gaze of affection and a gentle hand, reaching out to help him rise.

“Please, my dear Corvo, do not kneel like this. It does not suit you to be a worshipper like them. You are…” he strokes his hand and brings it up for a surprising kiss, “special.”

He lets Corvo’s hand cradle his face, and Corvo smiles, leaning closer, another hand pulling the Outsider close by his waist.

“Karnaca must be a ghost of the past to you, its streets and people - a mere echo of what once used to be. Don’t give in to nostalgia, because it will not take you anywhere. Look into the present, and even more so - into the future. Both hold higher boons.”

Corvo wants to say that in the past he didn’t have  _ him _ . A pang of guilt pierces through his heart, because back then he had Jessamine. But the Outsider’s gaze is loving and his face is soft and his words are true. He cannot return Jessamine, but he can heed both her and the Outsider’s words and live with what he has. Who he has.

Before he can lean in, the Outsider does first. His lips touch Corvo’s temple and his eyes are shut tight. His kiss is harsh and pressed hard into Corvo’s skin. It feels all too emotional for someone like the Outsider, but Corvo relishes what he gives. He hears a hum, and realises it comes from the Outsider’s throat. The sound akin to the whale song, deep and streaming through his very essence. He too closes his eyes and listens, and feels lips travel down his face, from the temple to his jaw. Following the emotions, he cups the Outsider’s face and kisses him. Their lips are held together tight, tongues resting away from each other. This kiss is different, passionate even as their mouths remain closed just so. 

They pull away, foreheads meeting and noses rubbing against each other. Quiet, even in the windy howling of the Void. Corvo presses kisses to the Outsider’s lips every now and then.

It almost surprises him when the deity’s arms fall around him, draw him even nearer, and a sigh escapes the Outsider’s mouth, a sigh says:

“Oh my Corvo, how dear you are…”

Corvo smiles. He cannot say anything out loud, but he can press closer to the god, chest to chest, letting his heart beat for the two of them, pulsing off the Outsider’s body. He can run arms around him and he can catch his lips again and again until they will mellow and melt into each other.

Karnaca maybe a place long changed and molded. But home is wherever the Outsider is, and the Void seeps through reality wherever Corvo goes. And if the Outsider is there, Corvo will pull through, no matter what.

Reality returns to him with a soft glow and a whisper, my dear Corvo, again. Corvo smiles. The runes are on the shrine, buzzing still, and somehow their song is cheerful, joyful enough to make Corvo smile broader. Yes, he will pull through. He will pull through. 


	13. Day 13 - Tired kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to the idea goes to bluebeholder <3 I hope you all wll enjoy this softness.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

By the time he finds his way back to Karnaca from Kirin Jindosh’s mansion, having dropped Sokolov off with Meagan and gone to investigate the runes, he barely sees anything, darkness of hunger and exhaustion consuming him. The mask deprives him of proper oxygen, and his body starts giving in to breaking. He almost misses a ledge when Blinking, and his fingers, sweaty and weak, almost slip off the edge. Having run out of Addermire solution, Corvo has to rely on what is left of his stamina, which is little. All his thoughts concentrate on a single destination, where comfort is, where rest is. Where he will not be alone.

Corvo all but collapses in a small apartment, left to its devices by time, bloodfly plague, gangs. He is tripping over broken floorboards, finding hold of a nearby broken piece of furniture, his fingers digging into it. He roams the room quickly, searches for any sign of food, but there is nothing. He groans, his stomach groans too, and he decides to merely sit and rest. The floor meets him hard as he sits down, his body weight crushing on himself. Back pressed to the shrine, Corvo leans back and sighs. Blinks, closes eyes, just for a minute...

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opens his eyes, it’s dark and cool. Something gentle caresses his throat and picks at the edge of his mask, carefully slipping it off his face. It makes him feel free, unrestrained by metal and fabric, and he breathes in deep.

His body immediately kicks into action, troubled by the fact of his mask gone and his body being too relaxed in a place so dangerous. He tries to jump up, but a steady firm hand keeps him in place on his shoulder.

“You are safe,” a whisper, a sigh that sounds louder than the world, calms him, and it’s the Outsider’s face that peers at him from the side. He sits on the floor with his hands all over Corvo’s arms and shoulders, mask left on the floor. He keeps him down close, and Corvo lets his guard fall, relaxing back at the shrine.

_How long have I been out?_ he gestures.

“Long enough for your body to rest and get much needed energy back. You are still a mortal man with needs and wants, Corvo, and it would be wise not to deny it food and water. I cannot give it to you, but I can guide you to where it is.”

Corvo rubs his forehead tiredly, processing the information through the sleepy haze. He relaxes even more, slumping against the shrine’s base, listening to the rune’s soft singing. The room is drowning in the night’s dark, and only the softest dimmest orange light of Karnaca’s street lights touches the small window in the wall. Corvo looks the other way, turns to look where the Outsider sits beside him, his body engulfed in black.

His eyes never leave Corvo’s face. His gaze is steady, blinking merely. He doesn’t seem to be expecting anything, or admiring anything, just looking. Corvo stares back and realises once again how beautiful the Outsider is. How dear he is to him and how much he wants to have a chance of a lifetime to look at this face always.

Almost instinctively, seduced by darkness and silence, Corvo leans to the side and cups the Outsider’s face, bringing him closer for a kiss. The deity’s hands rest on his own hands, holding gently. He wants to warm those cold fingers, but only manages to warm the pliant lips that move softly with his. The Outsider pushes himself closer and closer, until Corvo can run an arm around him while the other gently circles his cheekbones. The Outsider’s own hands slide to hold Corvo’s inner collar where folds are soft and temperature warmer.

To Corvo’s surprise, the Outsider’s hands do more, they move down and unclip his jacket buckle.

He pulls away, licking at his lips, inquiring look addressed at the Outsider. _What are you doing?_

The Outsider says nothing, only cocks his head, smiling softly by the corners of his mouth.

“I want to be closer. Warmer.”

He unclips another buckle and Corvo’s jacket falls open. The Outsider moves ever so closer, runs his arm around Corvo’s waist and nuzzles in the crook of his shoulder. His lips kiss where they can reach, and Corvo relishes he kiss on his neck, over his jaw. It makes him tremble a little, sigh. He can’t help but put his arms around the Outsider and pull him in his lap, allowing him to wrap arms over his waist even more, sharing the heat off his body.

Their hair mess each other, their noses touch and Corvo kisses again, drowning in the affectionate wave as it consumes him. The Outsider talks no more, only kisses and kisses him, holds him as Corvo holds the god.

He doesn’t realise he falls asleep again, but next time his eyes open, he is alone in the room, his jacket covering him and a small selection of fruit lying beside him. And more than anything, his lips burn and tingle pleasantly, as he taps at them with a rough finger.

He thinks he should break the habit of leaving his missions like this, but the Outsider is his addiction and one he is not dropping any time soon.


	14. Day 14 - Passionate kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this... sweet kiss ;)
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

No matter what the Abbey says, Corvo knows people love the Outsider. But love is a word that comes in many definitions, from ones that describe elevated feelings of ascension to those that drag one into the pits of the Void itself. Many love the Outsider in their own twisted way, it is all too obvious from the shrines they build. Some are well looked after, dusted and cleaned and decorated with jewelry and expensive fabrics. Others are rotten wood and damp clothes, last bits of possessions that people sacrifice for the altar. Corvo has seen so many of them, but nothing like this one that night.

It is well hidden, preserved behind tripwires and explosives, one wrong move an you will bleed. Corvo carefully disarms traps, cuts the wires and the Heart whispers relentlessly that soon he will reach a place where the shrine stands.

The shrine is embraced with hydrangeas, swaying in the light wind that seeps through the building’s carcass. They have sprung from beneath it, around it, sustained by the Void’s life-gifting magic. The fabric that hangs off the altar ledge is expensive looking, golden threads weaved into it might just be gold indeed.

Corvo approaches it with a pang of jealousy, traces the fabric that is soft and cool to the touch - silk; brushes the runes that lay as an offering or a gift from the Outsider himself, he can never figure it out. Fingers falling in the ridges where the ink is carved into the rune, Corvo strokes the mark that is mirrored on his hand.

It throws the world into stillness, the shrine bursting to merge the reality and the Void. The Outsider is there, leaning at the wall, looking at Corvo intently. His black eyes are unreadable but Corvo thinks he can read them anyway.

_ This is a beautiful shrine. _

“People give vast meaning to material items, and though some don’t understand why, I do. Things ground a person, they are holders of memories. Touch a silvergraph, and it is as if a whole passage of time is in your mind. Smell a perfume and your partner springs to your mind without failing. Find a rune lying elsewhere and… I hope…”

Corvo smiles and approaches the Outsider, pecking his lips quickly in a greeting.

_ I can hardly stop thinking of you regardless. _

Hydrangeas cast a complex shadow over the Outsider’s face, make him lively, real. Corvo looks over him, appreciating the trace of leaves that reflect on his features.

His hands start into a monologue that the Outsider watches carefully, his gaze glued to the way Corvo moves his fingers.

_ Jessamine used to know what flowers meant. She had to, because people sent in bouquets as messages of their affections or hatred. The year we had Emily, Jessamine ordered to plant hydrangeas across the Tower’s grounds. _

The Outsider looks over Corvo’s shoulder, to where the flowers sway and blossom. He smiles a little.

“What meaning do they carry?”

_ Honest, heartfelt emotion. Gratitude. Deep understanding between… two people. _

He hesitates for a moment and adds.

_ So many hydrangeas here. _

The Outsider smiles at him, his eyebrows rising almost incredulously.

“Are you jealous, Corvo?”

Corvo runs hands over the Outsider’s arms, feeling for the fabric, curling fingers into the folds, gripping on them. He sways forward, pressing chest to the deity, keeping him close the wall, so close that there is no space between the two of them and the wall itself. He leans in to mouth against the Outsider’s cheek, his lips hot and wet over his skin, his tongue licking carefully. The Outsider is weak and pliant in his hold as he pins him to the wall. Corvo goes on relentless, kissing his jaw, kissing his neck hungrily. The Outsider’s fingers return the gesture of digging in his front, finding hold of the collar and Corvo feels himself being pulled closer.

“Don’t be jealous, my dear Corvo. If you wish to know, this shrine hasn’t been attended for a long while. And the hydrangeas have blossomed here only because I willed them to.”

Corvo pulls away immediately, his cheeks burning with an embarrassed blush. The Outsider is still holding him by the fronts, runs a flat of a hand over his chest. His black eyes seem lustful, his lips - seductive and alluring. For a moment Corvo’s head spins with the realization, the meaning behind the flowers. He cannot believe he was gifted someone to share it again. The Outsider tilts his head and waits, ever so patiently, his face almost more beautiful than ever before. Corvo can’t hold himself back, if he could cry out a sound gasp, he would have, but lacking the ability to, all he can do is breathe in and lean down hastily.

His lips are almost violently passionate against the deity’s mouth, that which opens up immediately, runs a tongue over Corvo’s tongue, lets him explore his mouth and tease and play. The Outsider’s hands run through Corvo’s hair and pull closer. There is no space between them, no air, only passion that burns fires. Corvo presses the Outsider into the wall even harder, bites on his lips carefully, pulls and worries them. He realises his mark almost burns.

He wants to pull away, but the Outsider keeps him close, breathing heavily and raggedly. Corvo’s mind sways when he opens up his mouth again and runs his tongue over sharp teeth. He feels besotted, when a moan hums through the deity’s throat. And then Corvo  _ has _ to pull away.

The Outsider chases his mouth, and Corvo places a hand over his cheek. His thumb touches the corner of the Outsider’s finger, and the deity playfully kisses it and licks at it just with the tip of his delightful tongue. And then bites with a pleased smile.

They don’t talk at that moment, they don’t need to. Corvo looks at the Outsider and they both blink and nod at each other that they need to take a deep breath, that they need to slow down. And even if Corvo wants nothing more than to kiss and kiss the god, shower him with affection, kiss every spot on his body and so much more, the two of them understand they have to wait. And with that understanding they kiss again, softly, slowly, gently, with that very understanding.

The flowers of hydrangea that envelope the shrine speak that much.


	15. Day 15 - Meaningful kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Friday night is not going so well, so I'm indulging in some emotional beautiful corvosider. I think this is the appropriate time to write what I did today. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

When he walks out of Stilton's manor, even air that circulates and crawls through his lungs feels different. Light, electrified, fresh. It washes out the poison of broken time and past meddled with, removes the tendrils of twisted ‘perverted’ magic that he inhaled. The world seems newer and yet, unfamiliar.

Corvo understands why when the floor breaks under him and fake reality crumbles into the Void, with him amidst it. His fingers hit wooden splints and edgy rocks, and the Void seems bottomless, an ocean of black nothing and countless islands of emptiness, and he will certainly fall into its pit till his mind goes insane, till all he can think about is the terrors of his life.

He cries out soundlessly, and it is then that he stops, hanging midair. He looks up to see the Outsider peering down at him, his hand holding his wrist tightly and pulling him over the edge. Corvo wonders if he had been falling at all, if, perhaps, the Void had no known directions, if its physics and dimensions are even comparable to those that Corvo knows.

His feet feel a sturdy ground under them, and Corvo falls in the Outsider's embrace, breathing out shakily on his neck. Perhaps, it's exhaustion or fear or love or all at once that make him shudder in soft crying. The Outsider's hands sooth him gently, his voice being a whisper of sweet nothings. He is his dear Corvo, he is safe, he is where time is meaningless, he is where only the two of them matter, a man and a god. Corvo presses tight into him, his arms strong and almost crushing, his lips biting on gentle skin while he is trying not to cry.

"Fear is not a weakness, Corvo. It drives people to do selfless things, brave things. Empires rose not because of cowardice but of bravery driven by fear. Your example is admirable. Fearing for your daughter, for reality. It's not bad to fear for yourself too."

Corvo pulls away to look at him, to gaze in the expanse of blackness that meets his gaze. How can such nothingness have eyes so kind, so loving? How can a creature so mysterious, born of the Void itself, be so warm in his embrace. And how could he stumble and fall in love so fervently?

The Outsider's hands cup Corvo's face and hold him lovingly. He smiles, a realization not, perhaps, dawning, but striking nonetheless. His hands move against and between their chests, but his eyes are on the Outsider.

_ It is you who gives me strength. Not with this, just you… _

Corvo waves his hand in the air, the mark standing out with its intense blackness against the Void. The Outsider catches his hand, presses his lips to it. The mark flares up, sending shivers down Corvo's spine.

"Come, dear Corvo. I brought you to this crumbling island of past to show you something."

They follow to a strange assemble of statues and an altar ahead, and immediately Corvo knows what it is, even before the Outsider shares his tale. It's dry, dramatic but rid of details that would make it tearful. It’s a recollection of the past, a retelling of a story that lost its horror to the dust of time. The Outsider recounts it with flourish and gestures that don’t betray the heart wrenching details of a young boy who was mistreated, who was killed. And yet, Corvo believes those details exist. Evidence to them are two scars on the Outsider's throat, the suffer point that bled when the knife pierced his throat.

The Outsider sits further above Corvo, legs dangling off a rocky ledge.

"... And I became god."

Corvo looks at the altar, traces its dry and harsh surface with his fingers. Once it ran blood. Now it stood as evidence. Corvo’s heart burns with hatred and pity and he turns to look at the deity who looks back. His face is almost expressionless, save for the gentle gaze that he seems to employ whenever he looks at Corvo. He walks towards the Outsider, stands in between his legs. His hands slide up his thin thighs, up his hips, going further up to rest on a waist. The Outsider looks at Corvo thoughtfully, allows him to kiss his lips, and Corvo indulges them both in a sweet loving caress. His lips are careful, opening a pliant soft mouth of the god slowly, slipping over his dry lips to kiss them tenderly. He breathes out and kisses hard into the god, holding his lips captured between his, savouring the touch, unhurried. He can’t speak words, but he can exhale them in the Outsider’s mouth.

The Outsider breaks the kiss all too soon, and his face is surprisingly emotional. Corvo looks, not certain he understands why. The Outsider runs his fingers over Corvo’s forehead, brushes through soft locks of hair. His palm rests on a scratchy cheek.

"You fear for so many. You fear for me, even if the past is long gone. Why do you fear for me, Corvo?"

Words, air get stuck in his throat.

He had known why for a long time, the longest time. It is no surprise what he wants to say, but it still mesmerizes him, and his hands tremble. But even as such, they form words, a sentence, a confession, one only for the Outsider to read.

Loving a god is no small feat. But he gave his whole heart to it.

The Outsider's body trembles briefly. His black eyes look heavily, hidden under dark painted lids. His lips open but no sound comes out.

Corvo's hands fall to the sides, tug on the coat, fingers digging in his skin when he clenches fists, oh he shouldn't have said anything, it's too early, it's wrong, how dare he love a god…

"I love you."

A sigh of a wind. A whisper of a god against his mouth. He kisses it off his lips, takes it in, for the words to rest at his heart forever. The only fear that remains is that the words may be too heavy, to wonderful for his heart to bear.


	16. Day 16 - Kiss After Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I will ever have enough of corvosider kisses. They are just wonderful. Today's one is bittersweet a little, however.
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

He sits in his small cabin, a bottle of old Rivera fig wine in his hands. He doesn’t remember buying it, assumes Meagan brought it here for whatever reason she had. The swill is half gone, and Corvo’s lips are sticky and savoury from its sour taste.

He takes another swig and turns to look to the right. The Heart lies dormant at the very wall on a small metal crate. It is beating steadily, warmly, as if it has never changed. And, perhaps, the vessel itself hasn’t, but the contents are now different. Corvo wants nothing to do with Delilah’s thoughts. He fears of holding the polluted organ in his hands, he hates the idea of hearing any more lies-truths about Jessamine. What once held dear and fond memories has now been turned into an abomination. At least his own heart can still carry those memories, but it can go on only for so long.

He rubs his face with a rough hand, exhaling tiredly and swallowing a sob. There are weeks ahead for their travel, accompanied by the leviathans, by the rush of the waves. He keeps himself solitary, away from Sokolov, away from Meagan. They don’t bother him, only keep him brief company for meal breaks, but even those Corvo starts having in his cabin.

Solitude, he thinks, is not entirely true to describe his peace. The Outsider visits him regularly, daily. Not a night goes by without the Outsider in Corvo’s arms as he falls asleep. Cradled by gentle arms, soothed by tender lips, he wishes for no other state of things.

He does not startle when the Outsider walks from behind a crate stack, bringing thick darkness with him. His eyes are concerned, blinking so alive, Corvo wants to wipe a thumb over his eyelids and let his eyelashes tickle him. The Outsider’s hands are crossed behind his back, but he relaxes and sits beside Corvo, resting his head on his shoulder.

“I hate to remind you, Corvo, but lessons of the past should be learnt for the benefit of it. Moving on is… essential still. I cannot bring her back and neither can you.”

The Outsider is often vague and mysterious, but sometimes sharp as a dagger, bold, straight-forward, and Corvo wouldn’t have him any other way. But he is exhausted from his own thoughts, and the bottle of wine is too heavy, so he doesn’t move an inch. The Outsider nuzzles into him, pecking his neck for his attention, drawing only a small smile from Corvo.

The deity’s hands pull the bottle with intricately wined rope case over it out of Corvo’s hands and places on the floor. With power that he rarely shows, he presses at Corvo’s shoulders, chest, and pulls him down to his bunk. There is barely any space, but somehow they manage to fit, arm over each other, pressed close.

With the Outsider at the wall and with his back to the light, Corvo rests. His eyes look in the Outsider’s, his lips part, sighing with a whiff of alcohol. He is not drunk, but lightheaded enough to care little for anything. It’s not only alcohol that makes him so unmoving, it’s grief and hatred. He closes his eyes and sighs.

The Outsider presses even closer, embraces him, nuzzles in his very face. Their lips are pressed, unkissing, their noses over each other. It’s comforting, not having to kiss, but relishing the tenderness that emanates from the god. Corvo wallows in it, and somehow it washes away the pain of grief that weighs him own.

Hours pass with the soft whirring of the ship’s mechanisms, of the Outsider’s soft slow breathing, of the quiet whisper of the sea waves.

At some point their lips move, and they kiss. Slowly, lazily, without intention, only with a meaning. The Outsider licks Corvo’s pain away with every flick of a tongue. Corvo allows him anything, from soft bites on his lower lip to a deep caressing tongue.

While there is a whirlwind of emotions, of events, of betrayals and of great changes, there is always a constant. It’s odd, having a creature of chaotic winds, being the only thing that ever changes in his life. But it’s more than he could ask for.

The Outsider’s fingers brush his hair, stroke him gently, careful movements soothing him into sleep. He never stops kissing him, not for a moment.

Even when Corvo falls asleep, he can feel the God’s lips on his, unmoving, but warmed by his own touch. They never leave, and the deity’s arms never leave, and the Outsider himself never leave. Woken up by nothing but his inner alarm feeling, he finds the Outsider still wrapped tightly in his arms. His black eyes are open wide, for the god needs no sleep. He is a warm tide of gentleness against his body, a soothing caress. And Corvo has him, holds him, loves him.

His small island of peace amidst a violent sea of life. And he knows it’s worth living for, and he will always come back to it. It’s his way of moving on.


	17. Day 17 - “Can’t Let Go” kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having massive corvosider feels today, I guess. Enjoy this kiss <3
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

When he gets the first glimpse of Dunwall, hears it cry and screech with broken metal, crumbled stone and rotting corpses, Corvo thinks there is no way to save the city. How are they to raise it back to its former glory, clean it, make it whole, let alone habitable? He thinks of how Emily would come back to see the destruction and dismay, and what if she simply gives up?

He shakes his head. It is he who is giving up, not his strong brave daughter. He is an old man who wants some rest, one which he fears will never come. Unless he falls at Delilah’s hand, and then the Void will take him.

He wanders from one building to another, breathes in smoky air. Dunwall is home, more than Karnaca by now. Seeing it in the state of nothing but ruins wrenches his guts. Gangs, witches, wolfhounds. Pollution of the heart of the Empire.

But he moves on. On and on until he finds refuge in a place where scavengers are picking at the treasure remainders of an apartment. It’s wrecked into pieces, paper and glass a crunchy mix under Corvo’s boots. Carefully he takes out the scavengers, his choke hold strong and near-lethal. The two men gasp out and Corvo lays them to sleeping rest in a large room, leaving to search the apartment himself.

At first, he doesn’t notice it, but then stronger and stronger, with every step, the air itself buzzes and calls for him. He knows there is a rune somewhere, or, perhaps, a whole shrine, so loudly it’s calling for him. He searches for it feverishly, either to make the music of the runes stop or to see the Outsider who would appear before him without a doubt. When he turns the secret lock, his heart burns with anticipation. If he has to, he will keep the time stopped for a few moments with the Outsider, before he heads towards the inevitable, and, perhaps, inevitable death.

The shrine is magnificent. Corvo’s eyes feel soothed by its familiar purple gleam, one that he hasn’t seen for a long while. Scattered here and there are dozens of candles and lanterns, vials of healing potions of blue and red. He takes one, gulps it down, blue liquid leaving a sweetly taste in his mouth. His body feels the vigor, the power of the Void pounding through his muscles, ready to be called into action. He replaces the vial to where it used to be and comes closer to the shrine. A sigh escapes his lips, and he reaches out to take the two runes that lay there.

The Outsider appears imminently, his step - a curious circle about the room.

“You may not remember, Corvo, but you have already visited this shrine. The one who built it has long passed, turned to dust. But I remain, and those who worship me do. They moved the shrine here, to remain untouched even when the city barely stands, its fate hanging on a single thread. And  _ you _ hold that thread.”

Corvo brings his hands up to the light of a purple lantern, as if its glow would show him this powerful piece of the future that he controls. But his hands are bones and rough skin and a trace of magic, inked into it. The Outsider takes his hands and moves to place them on his face. Corvo cups his cheeks gently. His eyes half-close heavily. The Outsider’s presence alone makes him soothed and calm. He wishes he could give in.

Corvo sighs and pulls the Outsider in his embrace, the god’s back pressed to his chest. They stand and stare at the shrine, a piece of serenity amidst chaos. It glows softly, lights playing off the silky fabric under the ceiling. The Outsider seems indifferent, much more interested in taking Corvo’s marked hand into his and bringing it up to his lips. A kiss, pressed to the Mark, and the ink flares blue and then gold. Corvo’s hand is warm because of it.

He smiles a little and nuzzles in the Outsider’s shoulder, pressing nose into the leather of his jacket. Oh how he wants to get under it, to touch whatever body is hidden beneath sturdy layers of clothing. Wants to kiss the skin that teases him from a delicate neck.

The Outsider kisses his hand again. His lips are pressed so close to the mark, moving only a little to press kisses again and again, making the mark flare up. Corvo can return the caress in his own way only, brushing below the Outsider’s ear with the tip of his nose, tilting head to fit behind the collar, pulled away, and kiss his jaw. It’s soft sweet kisses at first, those that make them both smile, feel happy. But the more he kisses that jaw, the less he can stop. Time has stopped, but he cannot. Kiss after kiss, his lips tenderly make love to the god’s skin. The Outsider opens his mouth to say something, but for this once, words fail him. A hitched gasp escapes his mouth and his hands dig into Corvo’s arms.

And for the love of the Void, he cannot stop kissing that jaw.

He comes round from a jolt of anxiety pulsing through his body. It makes him stop and pull away, realise that the Outsider is mellow and soft in his hold, half undone by Corvo’s own insatiable lips.

“I wish it hadn’t stopped,” the Outsider professes, turning around in Corvo’s embrace and digging at the fronts of his coat. Corvo leans down, breathless, to kiss him. It’s brief but sweet. And not enough.

He kisses him again, again and once more. It tears him apart because it feels like a kiss of goodbyes, of never seeing each other again. The future is so unclear. He may walk out victorious, he may never walk again. But hope is all he has left, and that hope he wishes to imprint on the Outsider’s mouth, trapping his lips in a kiss again.

When he pulls away, his fingers work a speech.

_ Last time you didn’t come for over a decade. Promise me, that when this is over, when you know it is over, you will return. I will wait by this shrine. _

It feels childish, striking a date at the edge of his own unknown fate, inviting a deity to come at a certain time, when that deity has no need for time nor its perception. And yet, the Outsider moves forward and kisses Corvo again, sighing in his mouth.

“I will.”


	18. Day 18 - That Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I learnt to write nsfw kisses. I'm so sorry, I couldn't help myself!  
> I hope you all realise that we are closer and closer to DOTO? Eek!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

He doesn't need a calendar, an alarm clock, a reminder to know that everything is over. And that when he goes to the shrine, he will wait for a promise to be fulfilled, a promise given in the wake of a night by a god himself. He will wait till sundawn breaks, till all hope fades with the last flicker of a candle, till his heart finishes beating a happy tune and switches to something happy.

But he doesn't have to wait. As soon as the door to a secret shrine closes, as soon as he turns around, the deity the shrine stands for is before him, his eager arms embracing Corvo strongly, stronger than they seem to be able to.

“How is her Imperial Majesty?" the Outsider asks, muttering in Corvo's shoulder.

Corvo simply nods, chin digging in the god's jacket. The nod tells him of the Tower cleaned off of the corpses, tells of Emily's sound sleep, of the fact that she doesn't know where her father is, only that he is out for the night. He is like a teenager, sneaking under the blanket of a night to fool around with a sweetheart. In a way, it's exactly what he came here for, and more.

"The fate may have dealt you a sad hand, Corvo, but I think you have long past outplayed it."

_ With you _ , he gestures behind the Outsider's back, knowing full well he knows what he says anyway.

The Outsider hums an approval and pulls away a little, relieving himself from the cuddle.

Corvo sighs, surprisingly content. The fight is over, and there may be more great trials that the Outsider has once predicted him. But he knows, somehow he knows that at long last he can have his well deserved rest. And he can do whatever he damn pleases to, not having to worry about rushing to hunt down a target, about lives of millions at his fingertips, about being the Lord Protector that he is at heart. 

And he has plenty to do. 

At first…

The Outsider lets out a muffled sound of surprise when Corvo leans forward boldly, gathering the Outsider in his arms and swallowing a gasp off his lips in a passionate kiss. All barriers, limits aside, Corvo wants to take everything that is given. And the god is pliant and willing to give. 

How many kisses he grants the Outsider that night by the shrine. They start at the sweet soft lips that Corvo wets with his mouth. As he worries them, his hands are quickly undoing the labyrinth of buckles of the Outsider’s jacket. The favour is returned by slim pale fingers that hurry to relief Corvo of his coat. He almost faints from the sight of smooth skin that the white shirt reveals. A ridiculously high collar he pulls aside, and sways forward to graze that skin with teeth and shower with open mouth kisses, teasing with the tip of a tongue. 

The Outsider is nothing like the god he presents himself at the shrine. Gone is the smirk, vanished are the speeches and all that remains are a delicate body and a million of soft sighs. Corvo drinks them all in, bravery taking ahold of him with every following kiss, with every patch of skin that he bares and explores. Soon, there is no fabric left to pull away, and he worships the god and he caresses him in many ways he knows. He realises that the god is deaf to his pleas, because the god has lost the ability to speak. And Corvo prides himself on stealing his voice and breath and heart. Marks of his teeth are all over the god’s body, grazed and bruised. He himself is patterned with half-moons of nails that dig in his skin.

Some hours later the room falls quiet. Corvo thinks he has never heard quite so peaceful a silence and wallows in it. The Outsider, bare to the core, to the heart, their clothing tossed aside, lies in his embrace and looks somewhere at the ceiling, his black eyes dazed. His hand caresses Corvo’s arm in slow rhythmic motions, as if it gives the Outsider solace. He turns to look at him, closes his eyes and rests his head against Corvo’s chest. Not a word. Quiet.

Corvo runs a careful finger along the Outsider’s arm, picks at his skin gently. His hand slides gently to rest on his Waist, so frail, so warm under his touch. His heart beats madly at the idea of holding the deity without his leather shell, just his being, in his arms. He is overwhelmed, passionate, but keeps his lust in reigns. Instead, tips the Outsider’s face carefully, seeking the gaze of his opened eyes, blackness staring at him, the entirety of the Void. He leans down to kiss him, slowly, lazily, with exhaustion seeping. His muscles barely move and so does the Outsider, strength left enough to raise a hand to rest it against Corvo’s cheek.

He rubs forehead against his forehead and closes his eyes. A sigh.

The dawn is breaking, even if he can’t see its first burn of sunbeams. But it’s more than a stage of nature. It’s a dawn for the Empire, for Dunwall. It’s something new beginning for Corvo and the Outsider, and he knows it too well when he leans down to kiss his god again.

By the Void, he loves him so.

“And I love you too, Corvo.”


	19. Day 19 - Passionate kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone stop me from going along the dangerous line of nsfw kisses :D
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

His hands are unused to hammer, rough from a sword and not a hilt of a tool, and yet he makes himself put together a shrine to hide behind a wall of books. A small space, a dark space, and a shrine large enough to fit in with all its lanterns and fabrics and magnificence. Hidden behind a Kaldwin lock, which is in turn closed by books to be a secret even from Emily. Corvo enters it at nights that follow the restoration of the Tower, and there, in small enclosed space he talks the nights away with the Outsider who comes without a fail whenever Corvo as much as traces the base of a shrine. They discuss politics and weather, they talk of people, of Emily’s allies and opponents. The Outsider refuses to speak of the future, but Corvo doesn’t ask him about it too often. Free, unbound and drunk on love, he relishes whatever minutes he gets to spend with the god.

The Outsider doesn’t have needs but the Void, but Corvo finds himself grounding him. Brings wine which the Outsider refuses to drink under pretence that it is too sour. Drinks coffee with him at night only to be wide awake and tired in the morning, making up excuses to Emily about being out in the field, hopping roofs and keeping watch of Dunwall while the sun is down.

One night, ever so lovely night, he coaxes the Outsider out of their small hideout. The deity studies his room, spreading darkness blacker than the shadows. He steps, and the world caves in around him, images twisted, colours faded, outlines distorted. He makes the very existence impossible, and it makes Corvo lose his breath because he is allowed to kiss this strange wonderful creature.

“You are a man of no simple needs, Corvo. Such a fine room and of a modest, yet unmeasured somehow taste. You show both your Serkonan and Gristol side. I hope you know the nobility finds your peculiarities quite amusing and delightful?” the Outsider says with the tiniest of smiles, picking at the edge of a golden frame that surrounds a painting of Karnaca. Corvo, who stands by the doors and checks the locks, shrugs. It comes as no surprise to him, the court has always been quite respectful of him, both in Jessamine’s and Emily’s time. If they are fond of his unusual tastes, then he has no objections. After all, he has earned the good word and goodwill.

“If it pleases you, anything you do I too find peculiar,” the Outsider muses when Corvo approaches him. The deity’s hands are clasped behind his back and his face is tipped up to look at Corvo. “And delightful, too.”

Corvo huffs out a soundless laugh, stepping closer to the Outsider, close enough for their chests to touch. The god’s hands are still out of his reach, but his lips aren’t. Leaning down with a smile, Corvo bites on his lower lip and tugs at it carefully. His hands come to rest on the Outsider’s face, holding him in place as he worries his lip. It’s so full, so soft, he cannot have enough of it. Teeth replaced with his own lip, he turns the tide of a kiss into gentleness.

“I don’t think I will ever tire of kissing you, Corvo,” the Outsider says, finally sliding his hands up Corvo’s shoulders and running fingers through his hair. Corvo closes his eyes in a bliss of the feeling and kisses the Outsider deeper, bothering his mouth with a tongue. The god pulls away again, words busying his mouth instead.

“If only I knew why I crave for them so,” he says, and Corvo kisses him fervently and briefly. “Mundane bores me, but your mouth mm--”

Corvo does not allow him to speak him another word, gasps in his mouth. Hands running wherever they can find a hold. Be it folds of a leather jacket or the softness of naked skin, Corvo can’t get enough of touching the deity. His kisses are generous and generously returned. They waltz from sweet caress to breathless gasps, and the Outsider’s voice is oh so sweet when it melts into ragged sighs of soundless moans, and Corvo’s name, a blessing off the god’s very lips that he can’t stop kissing.

Hours later, at the break of dawn, sweaty and warm and caressed beyond imagining, they lie under a heavy blanket in Corvo’s bed. With all his weight he presses the god down, looking earnestly in his black eyes. Too lacking of energy, all Corvo can master are warm kisses along the line of a bitten throat. He is careful now, gentle, lips tracing a previously trodden path where his mouth caressed and teased. The Outsider rubs fingers over his nape and hums in hazy approval when Corvo kisses all the right spots on his neck.

“Eternity spent in the Void cannot compare to being here, grounded, weightless with you,” the Outsider says, his voice clear and seductive. Corvo does not stop his kisses for a moment, only giving the Outsider more and more reasons to continue talking. “Your love is a trap, Corvo, and I fear I have willingly walked into it and let it clasp around me. And you hold me, and I enjoy it. No prey should, but I am no prey.”

Corvo sucks on a muscle of his neck and listens to the god’s voice vibrate as he talks.

“Father?”

He tenses up and lifts his head up a little. There is knocking on the door, and the Outsider’s grip on his hair tightens.

“May I come in?”

Options are so few. Emily must have heard a voice, but he cannot speak a word. Perhaps, she thinks he is meeting with someone. Is he bold enough to refuse the Empress her will, is he bold enough to ignore her in favour of a deity?

The Outsider looks at him, his black eyes relaxed and soft and teasing. A grip of his fingers tightens even more and he brings Corvo’s face close for a brief but hot kiss, a touch of a tongue, a bite on his lips.

“Have a good morning, Corvo,” he says clearly again and dissipates, leaving nothing but a trail of dark Void smoke and a taste of his love on Corvo’s lips.

The only explanation to his red lips, to his scattered gaze and to a voice in his room is that he was listening to an audiograph. Emily squints at him, disbelieving, but lets it pass.

Corvo hopes that sooner or later he will muster courage to tell his daughter that he has given his heart to a god.


	20. Day 20 - Goodbye Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for angst and accidental nsfw kiss. I mean, vaguely so :D It's still a T- rating, after all.
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Love is blinding. Often enough not in the way of disregarding your partner’s flaws, but of failing to recognize life as an ever changing matter. Complacency is pleasant, but Corvo should have learnt long ago that it is not the way it will be forever. But how can he think of possible prospects of death, of betrayals, that seem to follow his steps, of any small feats and failures, when he cradles a god in his arms? How can anything else matter when he tamed, loved and made a god love him?

What Corvo realises later in days is that he forgot that he is not the only piece on this life’s chessboard. That so many walk other paths and he doesn’t even know what goals they pursue. Meagan, or rather Billie, should have been an example enough. Daud’s recording on the Dreadful Wale should have reminded him. But love is blinding, and all that knowledge comes later, when Corvo has nothing but a blanket to embrace, torn away from the Void itself.

It happens days ago.

He wakes up to the Void, to its oddly violent winds, to the mournful singing of the whales. He wakes up to his bed broken and sheets torn as if with time. He wakes up to the Outsider hovering beside him, waiting. As soon as Corvo's gaze locks on him, the deity kneels to lean on his bed, to crawl in his embrace and to start a fervent collection of nibbling and kissing down his throat.

Corvo is not awake enough.

Firmly, but carefully, he pulls the Outsider away and looks earnestly in his black eyes. He blinks in return, huffs quietly. His face is neutral, relaxed but for the slightly opened mouth. Corvo brushes under his eyes with careful thumbs and tilts his face closer.

_ What is this about? _

"I have develop a certain set of needs and wants, Corvo. I thought I could indulge and employ them, as you are willing."

Corvo shakes his head and gently cradles the Outsider's cheek.

The deity is too eager, too lively, too wanting. He does not shiver, nor does he blush or cry. But Corvo has learnt him enough to find his body language troubling. There is no tremble in the god’s bones, but Corvo runs hands over his forearms nonetheless, steadies him. Softly he captures his lips, only for a brief sweet moment, a confirmation that he cares. And then gestures again.

_ What happened? _

The Outsider moves and pulls himself closer to Corvo, straddles him. Corvo, though taken aback by such eagerness, surrounds his waist with strong arms. Looks up a little as the Outsider now hovers his face above him. The god presses lips to his forehead, then touches it with his own.

"Time in the Void is meaningless, but it does not mean it does not exist here. Differently, perhaps, it counts existence away. And nothing is eternal, not even the Void, not even I."

Corvo frowns and tries to speak, but the Outsider takes his hands and guides them to his jacket, unclasping the collar and prompting Corvo to continue. He caresses his heavenly lover over the neck while obeying, and the Outsider still talks, his voice a pleasant hum under Corvo’s fingers.

"There will come a time when the avatar of the Void will change. And I will change as you know me."

Corvo thinks then, loudly, objecting, for the Outsider to hear even as his fingers undo the jacket in a familiar way.  _ I will love you still. _

The Outsider laughs acceptingly, shrugging out of the jacket with Corvo’s help, and shifts to slide off Corvo's lap. Corvo is already undressed enough and the Outsider loses no time to let go of his hands and pull down the blanket, returning to straddle Corvo's hips. Corvo misses the warmth of fabric only for a moment until the Outsider, his skin cool but easily warmed, touches his. The Outsider rocks forward to kiss him, mouth opened with experienced kisses, tongue flicking invitingly over Corvo’s mouth, and even then the God does not stop speaking, his speech - a gentle echo in Corvo's mind. Corvo’s hands tremble at that so weakly, but he continues undoing the god's clothing step by step, buttons of a starched white shirt slipping open as Corvo works them.

"One night, Corvo. Just one night, my dear Corvo. So that I can remember it, and you. Such memories are never lost to time. Or so I selfishly hope. Oh, I am a selfish god, Corvo, but even that matters little now."

When his shirt opens up undone, revealing a perfect chest, the Outsider sways closer to Corvo, meeting his mouth with passion again. But it's new, emotional, painful, infused with yearning and lust that the Outsider has never shown before. He feels hungry for caress, and Corvo gives him strong embraces and access to wherever the deity pleases. Corvo is kissed rather than kissing, and he does not resist.

Just one night that the Outsider begs for with every fibre of his being, with every thought. His every sigh is Corvo's name and "just one night". And the further, deeper they go, the more Corvo is filled, with fear too. What is his god meaning, why are his kisses so desperate, why is his caress akin to a goodbye?

When Corvo wakes up, sweaty and tired, he still has no answer. No answer, and no god by his side.


	21. Day 21 - Blow-Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is a rather small chapter, but I put in all the appropriate thoughts for the situation described. I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

On the third day of the Month of Darkness part of Corvo dies. When his eyes open, his body refuses to shift an inch. He feels heavy, unusually so, energy drained from every cell of his body. He cannot understand what it is, perhaps, he caught a cold in this season of cool winds and crispy air. But the only thing that hurts is his heart, for one reason or another, he cannot understand.

Corvo grunts and tries to move, pulls weight to lean on the side. His eyes stare at the colourful rows of books which aren’t that bright and colourful anymore. The world seems dull, drained of colour, even the sounds seem muffled.

He goes on with his day as usual, however, devoted to the duties of the Lord Protector. Meet with the Watch captain, talk to Curnow, advice Emily. It’s all familiar, a never ending routine that he turns around his hand like a threat, day after day. He smiles every now and then, his mind drifting away to a much anticipated evening, where he knows the shrine, hidden behind the secret door, will light up with purple lanterns and will fill with sweet love. He slides into daydreaming when the meetings are too boring, closing eyes for a brief second to recall a kiss of his lover, a word said the previous night, a promise given.

But a promise is never fulfilled, and a kiss is not given. The Outsider does not come. Nor does he appear the day after and a week, and two. Every day is a struggle and Corvo is torn between fearing of losing the god’s favour or that something the Outsider said, something so ominous and odd, has come true.

His mark ceases to work. Magic no longer flows through his body, and he doesn’t dream of the Void. Instead, he has dreamless nights that serve as a vehicle from one day into another. Corvo thinks he should simply accept and move on, but his mind and heart are tainted with love all too much to leave it behind. Not a day goes by that he does not think of the Outsider. Not a moment passes that he doesn’t press lips to his hand where the ink still shines darkly, kissing the half-circles and pointy rays.

He still comes to the shrines. Brings a bottle of wine and takes just a sip or two, more a gesture than a craving. He reads books by the purple and golden light, sometimes falls asleep to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling cranky and old. He is sad, genuinely so, even if his face remains a cheer most of the time when Emily is around.

Once he does dream of the Void, but he knows it’s not the true place. An image, an imagination, a wild product of it because he misses the place and its keeper. He dreams of the Outsider and sometimes imagines he can hear the water waves as he cradles his dream-version in his arms. That Outsider never speaks and never kisses him, only looks at him with void-empty eyes that blink and blink, and rests head on his chest.

When almost a month of this odd loneliness passes, Corvo decides he should, perhaps, move on. Less nights by the shrine, less thoughts of his lover, gone too early to the unknown. Awkwardly, his cheeks flushing, he blows a kiss to the shrine, just three fingers pressed to his lips and a sigh over them to send it to the Void. It sounds final. It’s a lesson learnt painfully, the moving on that is so hard to follow through. He is attached and his heart belongs to another. How can he move on when he lacks something so crucial?

The Month of Darkness comes to an end. Cold winds cease and rare snow disappears. A kiss is trapped in the Void. And Corvo moves on.

He brushes a hand through his hair and walks out of the secret room, out of his own room. A guard runs towards him, and Corvo tenses, muscles ready to stir the trouble and his hand coming to rest on the folding sword.

“Lord Corvo,” the guard breathes out, his face painted with confusion. “There is a man in the main hall who wishes to see you. He asked to tell you he needs just one night. To explain something, I think. I am not sure what that means, my Lord. Do you?”

Corvo has never run so fast in his life before.


	22. Day 22 - A kiss on the throat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Some of you mentioned you'd like to see this fic go up in the rating, and some of my friends expressed the same wish. Bluebeholder finally tipped that balance, and thus let there be smut!
> 
> Please note, that this fic now goes to Mature rating, so please read at your discretion. This chapter will be rather tame in smut because it is not my intention to provide full blown explicit here. For that, I have other works :D
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

He sprints down the hall and his mind is sizzling burning, besotted with the idea of the Outsider appearing on the Tower doorstep. He runs down the stairs and doubts start crawling in his mind. Perhaps, he misunderstood something. Surely, the Outsider would not stoop to physically appearing by the Tower’s entrance, terrifying people with the blackness of his eyes and paleness of his features. Yet his absence, the Mark’s inabilities, make Corvo doubt even that. He slows down and walks through a set of rooms that precede the main hall. He pauses by the hall exit and leans at the wall, seeking out strength to return to his limbs. A cold sweaty hand pressed to his forehead, he breathes in and turns to step towards the main hall.

There are voices there and he carefully approaches, a set of stairs the last obstacle. Emily is there, alone and unguarded, but never not on guard. Someone is talking to her, and she laughs softly and puts hands on her hips. Corvo lets a shiver run down his shoulders and back and finally sways forward, forcing his legs to walk.

His jaw clenches hard when he sees the unmistakable figure. The black fringe of short hair, the silhouette he has held so many times in his arms, the curve of lips that he knows by the way they move in speech, or in a kiss, or in a sigh. He would be the Outsider, and yet it is the eyes that make him someone else.

Green, striking, large, they stare over Emily’s shoulder. Emotions race as those eyes move, from recognition and happiness to confusion and fear and, lastly, hope. His mouth shapes Corvo’s name, not a sound given.

Emily turns around, stepping aside and huffing out a soft laugh.

Corvo hears it, but does nothing, standing in the middle of a hall, his mouth open a little and gaze glued to the Outsider’s eyes. Have they ever been more beautiful?

Emily clears throat and he turns his attention to her.

“I have a hundred questions and one hungry tired man on my doorstep. As a proper Empress I would like to offer him shelter, food and patience for the questions I mentioned.”

The Outsider looks at her with an awkward smile, spreads his shoulders as if to regain some semblance of haughtiness that has always been a part of his godly entourage. Not surprisingly, he manages.

“I apologize for being a sudden burden and quite an intrusion, but in all truths… I had nowhere else to go.”

Corvo’s hands clench and unclench, fingers curl in and out again as he looks at the Outsider. There can be no mistake and, like his daughter, Corvo has so many questions.

“Imperial business demands my presence elsewhere, but I am certain my father here will take good care of you. It’s…”

Her voice falls to dramatic whisper.

“The Outsider, isn’t it? I remember you. From my dreams, occasional, and from the stories Corvo used to tell.”

The god smiles at her in surprise, his face so lively that Corvo has to pinch himself secretly. His skin burns from it, which means he must be in reality still. 

“I am the stuff the legends are made of. Pardon the dramatic word turnaround, it is but a fact.”

Corvo smiles, grins even, would have laughed loudly if he could, because the Outsider, standing there in the hall of the Tower, talking to Emily, making dramatic appearances and ridiculous jokes, it has to be some odd dream. Corvo’s mind sways dizzily and he covers his mouth with a hand.

On the last day of the Month of Darkness everyone is home in Dunwall Tower.

***

He lives through the day like through a sheet of hazy fog. He barely speaks to the Outsider, and the god himself spares him little words. It’s all gazes and avoided touches, awkwardness hanging in the air. Both seem to be waiting something, perhaps, the familiar atmosphere of the night, where lanterns flicker and silence feels thicker and they seem like one and together. Corvo craves for the hour of night to strike to shake off the mask of the Lord Protector and step into a more pleasant reality of a lover, a carer, just Corvo.

He brings the Outsider to his room. It is no new place, he does not have to acquaint him with anything. And yet, having the Outsider, who is living flesh and bone, stand in the middle of his room is an oddity. He shuts the door, locks it and turns around.

The Outsider is a beautiful silhouette against the light of a fireplace. His features contrast softly, shadows playing on his face. His eyes, so wonderfully alive, stare at Corvo from under heavy lids. He is even more desirable than before because for the whole day Corvo couldn’t tear his gaze away from the god. Teased by Emily, shyly looked at by the Outsider, his mind transfixed on the lovely images of the Outsider’s mouth on his. Oh how he craved to taste him.

“Corvo…” the Outsider says quietly, turning on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, and stepping towards Corvo. “I must ask you something. When we last saw each other, I warned you of changes to come. That I will be someone else entirely, alive or dead. I asked if you could change your opinion of me. And here I stand, revealed, alive, human, exposed before your eyes. What do you say now? Am I still desirable?”

Corvo blinks. Slowly, step forward and another, he closes the gap between himself and the Outsider, leaving but two inches. 

It is most surprising to feel a whiff of air on his face as the Outsider breathes. His chest heaves quickly and his shoulders moves a little.

Carefully he touches the Outsider’s chin, takes it by trembling fingers and pushes up. The man before him is so pliant, the Outsider, his Outsider. Eyes blinking slowly, irises being the only unknown feature, moving fast to look all over Corvo’s face. 

“I can’t hear you. Your thoughts, I can hear them no longer,” the Outsider says, his face going sad all of a sudden. “It was easier to know your wishes, your desires, and now…”

Corvo moves closer still and gestures in the air,  _ it does not matter. I don’t think you need to hear me to know how I feel. _

He takes the Outsider’s chin again and leans down himself. Their lips touch.

His knees feel so weak, he can barely hold himself standing. His hands tremble so. All because of the wonderful kiss that he is given, for it is both something he missed and something he has never experienced. The Outsider’s lips are so warm, he thinks he is burning into ashes. How hesitantly they move against his, lazily, almost pulling away in uncertainty. Corvo prevents it, gathers the Outsider in his arms, presses heavily into his mouth with an ardent kiss that does not show mercy to his lips or his tongue. He moans in the back of his throat because the Outsiders mouth is so wonderfully humanly hot and wet. He explores it with his tongue, tastes his lover as much as he can get. They cannot pulls away from each other even for a second, with the Outsider pushing up in Corvo’s mouth and Corvo returning the gesture with such a fervent intensity that he can’t hold back. He pushes his tongue further and deeper, right to where he can reach the Outsider’s teeth and flick over them, making the god, the former god, shiver and tremble in his embrace, holding onto him because his legs are too weak as well.

Swiftly he lifts the Outsider in his arms and carries him to bed. Their bed, for it can’t be called any way different now. The decision was made so long ago, Corvo fears to think when exactly. As if it has always been their space, their room. And now their home, together.

“My dear Corvo,” he says, while Corvo hovers over him and leans down to bite on his neck. It draws a delightful moan from the Outsider’s chest and whatever he intended to say is lost to Corvo’s caress. His fingers curl over Corvo’s back. He is dressed differently, his neck accessible easier and the amount of buttons and zips on his jacket making it quicker to undress. He is eager to help, tearing at the zipline, making it come apart. Corvo’s hands tremble as he makes his way to the Outsider’s body, helped by the god. No, by the man, whose skin is so warm, even feverish, and whose breathing is ragged. And when the upper clothing is gone, Corvo relishes what lays before him.

“When I made my way to Dunwall, I picked words and made up sentences to explain myself. I practiced speeches and -- oh Corvo…”

The Outsider writhes under him as he bites on a muscle of his neck, and then sucks on it. Corvo remembers every single pleasure caress that makes the Outsider gasp and writhe and now, shiver. And he uses all of them, merciless and passionate. Not for a moment does he let the Outsider forget what it feels like, to have Corvo’s lips on his throat. He moves his head against the soft bed covers, suffering in pleasure as Corvo nibbles at his skin. He cannot get enough of doing it, of the Outsider so obviously pleased, that he does it again and again, biting in new marks.

“Corvo, this is so much.”

Good, he thinks and explains it by sucking into the skin harder.

The Outsider kisses his hand that every now and then comes to cradle his face, rub his lips. He runs his hand through Corvo’s hair, perhaps, unintentionally so, but pleased. Corvo takes his caress, but then comes to cup his cheeks again, kiss his delightful mouth and gesture quickly.

_ I wish to indulge you. My own pleasure can wait. _

The Outsider measures him with a gaze both of admiration and relieved acception.

It does not take long for him to rid the Outsider of the rest of the clothes, dragging his trousers off and away, anything else that might prevent him from seeing his lover at its finest. He keeps the Outsider warm, sharing the heat of his body, infusing him with it as he kisses his way down the Outsider’s chest, pausing to play with a nipple as he does. Catches it between his lips, makes it grow hard and dark red. His hands run a reverent trace down the young man’s side, and Corvo moves further down.

The Outsider is already hard, which is barely any surprise to Corvo. He rises to hover above the Outsider and look him earnestly in the eyes. He may have been a god, they may have spent wonderful passionate nights not once or twice, but more. But now he is made human, of flesh, living and breathing. And he is twitching and shivering and eager, and Corvo wants to see him be even more alive in an instant brilliant sizzling moment, brought by Corvo’s loving hand. He seeks permission in those green ancient eyes, and that permission is granted as the Outsider reaches to hold his face and kiss him briefly.

He leans further down on the Outsider and lets him wrap long arms around his neck. As the young man does so, Corvo’s hand curls around him tightly, pressuring enough not to hurt, but to please. He drags his hand up and down, in soft frequent motions. The Outsider’s fingers press into his shoulders.

“Corvo, this is so much,” he breathes out in his neck, biting a little from the intensity of pleasure. Corvo does not stop for a moment, pumps him carefully, playful fingers seeking out spots and veins where the Outsider shivers and writhes the most.

He shushes his moans, which make Corvo hard in return, with pecks and kisses all over the side of his throat, his face, captures his lips. His mouth is full of delightful whimpers, prolonged as the Outsider relishes in Corvo’s touch that does not cease for a moment. He makes the touch faster, but careful still, and the fast he works his lover, the more the Outsider’s voice shatters and his hips buck up.

“Corvo…” he whispers.

“Oh Corvo…” he begs.

It barely takes a minute for the god, a man, to break apart and come undone under Corvo, streaking white over his hand, over his abdomen. His arms and hands dig into Corvo’s skin harshly enough, sure to leave evidence of pleasure. Corvo runs now slicky wet hand over the Outsider’s flesh still, taming the wave of emotions into an ever pleasant simmer of past orgasm.

Corvo lies down to the side and pulls the Outsider closer, both of them sweaty and dirty and pleased, even if Corvo is waiting to relief himself. He cradles the Outsider in his arms, he touches his cheek and gifts him appreciative and loving kisses, capturing his warm lips between his and worrying them with pleasure.

“It feels… different now. Your touch, your love. It was wonderful, but now it is different. And wonderful.”

Corvo calls him a cryptic god still with a gesture of tired warm hands, and the Outsider huffs out a laugh.

“I still am, Corvo.”

He turns to nuzzle in Corvo’s neck and whispers in his skin, making Corvo tremble weakly.

“Would you care to touch me again?”


	23. Day 23 - Slow kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I'm sad and sleepy, so have this nice mellow kiss :)
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Corvo enters his room when the clock strikes past 2 in the morning. The Tower is as quiet as it may be at so late an hour, and so is his and the Outsider’s room. Except that the young man on his bed is not asleep, only his head tipping as he tries to fight the drowsiness away. He has a book in his lap, a silky black robe spread over his shoulders. He looks up when Corvo enters, and his weary face brightens up with a soft smile. The book is immediately closed and tossed aside.

Corvo smiles at him too. A face so dear after a day so tiresome is more than welcome - it’s desirable. He slips out of his coat as he walks through the room, tosses it aside, followed by a shirt and the rest of the clothing. By the time he approaches his lover, he is undressed and even more tired. Heavily he slumps on the bed and the Outsider reaches his arms towards Corvo. He allows the young man embrace him and hold him and push him down to bed.

“My dear Corvo, you must be more particular about your health. Look at you,” he reaches out to hold his face, and Corvo tilts his head into the gentle touch, enjoying the feeling of tender fingers on his cheeks. The Outsider’s eyes, though tired, find energy to look at him lovingly. Corvo can’t look away, for those eyes are enthralling, mesmerizing, their green - unusual still, even weeks since the Outsider arrived to Dunwall to never leave again.

He shrugs, blinking and smiling. The Outsider shakes his head and moves closer, soft folds of his robe sliding down a pale graceful shoulder. Whether it is intentional or not, Corvo does not know, but enjoys the view nonetheless. He too moves closer, his arms enveloping around the Outsider and pulling him closer. They simply sit for a while, warm and soothed in each other’s arms. It feels so wonderfully human to be alive.

Minutes later they find themselves lying shoulder to shoulder in bed under a single blanket. Corvo, though tired but also too eager to get his necessary amount of love and caress, and the same - given, turns to the Outsider. He kisses his bare shoulder and traces lips up to meet his mouth. He is too lazy to make it more than the softest making out, and merely kisses the Outsider to where his tenderness allows. 

It is so comfortable, to hold each other, to kiss each other. Corvo thinks there is barely any other thing he would prefer to it, perhaps, none at all. He reaches out to flicker off the lantern that lights up the room, and soon the bedroom is enveloped in darkness. It’s soothing and often arousing, but not today.

Tonight, Corvo pulls the Outsider closer, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and another hand holding the Outsider’s on his chest. He listens to his heartbeat, steady and physical under his touch. He kisses the softest skin of the Outsider’s face, drowning kisses in his cheeks and pecking them over this cheekbones. The Outsider cannot resist another kiss on the lips, and turns his head to let Corvo bother his mouth. To Corvo’s mild surprise, the Outsider does not say a word. But somehow, he realises, they don’t need to make their thoughts vocal. He knows that the Outsider has to say from his every movement.  _ I’m happy to be here _ , say the eyelashes of his bright eyes.  _ I enjoy your presence _ , say the motions of his body as he leans and pushes closer.  _ Please, kiss me _ , says his insatiable mouth as Corvo covers it.  _ I love you _ , his heartbeat says, loud and clear.

And Corvo knows he doesn’t need gestures to express those same feelings.


	24. Day 24 - Winter Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to you and yours! I hope you are having good time, wherever you are. Here is my little gift to all of you, corvosider shippers, who have given me so much joy this year. Do enjoy! <3
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Dunwall winters are rarely truly harsh. It is mostly slush and grey and brown snow, mixing with the city mud and stuffing the cobblestone streets. People fall to cold depression at such times, their mood improving only by the fireplace flames and by holding a warm beverage or another’s hand in theirs.

But sometimes, on occasional magical days, Dunwall turns into a winter wonderland. Crystal bright snow drifts huddle in the streets, snowflakes falling in big heaps, frost painting patterns all over the windows. And though there is barely any sun still, Dunwall looks beautiful, to which the Outsider remarks out loud.

Corvo smiles at his incredulous face. It’s the Outsider’s first true winter. He kneels on the window seat, staring outside, his eyes open wide and curious. He let his guard fall down, allows some almost childish excitement on his face, and Corvo can’t get enough of that image.

It goes without saying that they immediately put on their warmest clothes and wander out into the city. It’s just another day, but somehow first true snow makes wonders to it and to the people. Corvo offers his arm to the Outsider, which the young man takes in a crook, and together they venture down the streets. Perhaps, Lord Protector and the junior advisor should show more carefulness about going out into the city like that, but Corvo is too drunken on love, excitement and desire to just have a really good day in such nice weather.

They stumble in one of small cafes that line one of the central streets. The owner, an old lady with enough age marks on her face to give Sokolov a run on that but with the kindest eyes, looks beyond thrilled to serve “such honoured guest”. Corvo fidgets while the Outsider looks eagerly at the cups that she provides. It’s hot chocolate and has a strong scent of Dunwall whisky. Corvo knows it’s proper stuff, not some back-alley beverage, and gives it a try.

The hot chocolate is delicious, and that much is said by the Outsider’s delighted smile and a small chocolate spot in the corner of his mouth. Corvo can’t help but wipe it off and lick the sweetness off his finger, making the Outsider blush. Though the whisky is barely a millimeter over the chocolate, the smell of it and the taste must have made the former god dizzy. His eyes look soft and his smile too. When Corvo moves out of his seat to sit beside his lover, nuzzling closer and torturingly slowly getting to his lips for a kiss, he realises that the Outsider’s skin is already incredibly warm and he cups his cheek to feel the heat of it.

They leave the cafe with their pockets stuffed with winter sweets, and Corvo can’t even bring himself to put on a stern mask of the brooding Lord Protector. It doesn’t go well with happiness.

The Outsider takes the lead, hand in hand with Corvo, their gloves warm and strong in each other’s hold. The young man drags him through a small park in the center, to the harbour where ships are docked despite the immense cold. They buy small cups of an odd hot drink that smells like fig wine but tastes much more sour and even spicy. The Outsider’s cheeks are striking red on his pale face, intensified by the day’s frost. Corvo can’t help staring at him, stealing glances and then kisses.

Snow is falling when they reach for each other, standing aside to the harbour railing, a magnificent view to one side, a comfortable one to the other, and each other’s faces close in front of them. Corvo is gentle, as much as he can manage, carefully holding the Outsider in his arms. With the two of them dressed for the weather, the Outsider feels bigger in his embrace, and Corvo can’t stop smiling when he captures the Outsider’s lips in his. It’s slow, tender and wonderfully hot, the temperature of air contrasting to that of their mouths.

When he pulls away, the Outsider’s lips are still open and a cloud of winter steam escapes his mouth. He looks so beautiful when he holds onto Corvo’s hands and eagerly pushes forward, inviting Corvo to kiss him again. Who is he to refuse a god, even if former?

They return to the Tower only when the sky turns deep dark and the houses that line the streets are lighting up with lanterns and candles. Dull streetlight accompanies them back home, while Corvo and the Outsider walk huddled close next to each other, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. It’s barely comfortable, but warmer and nicer that way.

The Tower is a pleasant change after such a long day out. Emily meets them halfway down the hall, looking highly amused but rolling eyes still. Corvo is used to her reaction, because it has been a year and he still feels younger than his years, more lovesick than he has ever been. Emily understands him, supports him, but as per her nature, never lets go of a chance to tease her father and his young partner on the subject. They wave her off and, hand in hand, make their way to the room.

Even if their clothes has been keeping them warm, frost finds a way to put ice on their skin. Corvo pushes the Outsider in their room and makes sure the fire is burning brightly enough. Flames dance beautiful shadows across the room, and he is content with that. With careful motions, he helps the Outsider out of his coat and a jacket, then undresses himself, never forgetting to every now and then lean down to kiss his lover. The Outsider’s hair looks funny, curling a little after the snow has dried off his locks. 

Corvo orders a tray of hot wine to his room, and while it is being delivered, he and the Outsider prepare, for the lack of a better word, a nest on the floor beside the fireplace, throwing the many pillows off their bed into a pile, dragging a few blankets there. When the wine arrives, they lock the room and made themselves comfortable on the floor.

To Corvo’s surprise, the Outsider doesn’t talk. He looks rather sleepy, and it is not astonishing, for he has had so much fresh air in one go. Corvo himself feels drowsy. When small glasses of spiced wine are empty, Corvo stretches on the blanket, a pillow pushed under his head. He smiles at the Outsider who sits by his legs. The young man looks beautiful in the soft light of the fireplace, his chest rising and falling steadily and his eyes closing in a rhythm. Corvo can’t decide if he is drunken on wine or on his love. He reaches out, his palm rubbing over the Outsiders arm, and the young man smiles at him. Sets the glass aside and stretches next to Corvo. He takes his time to settle in the crook of Corvo’s arm, to nuzzle in his shoulder, to find a perfect place to be able to look up at his lover. And Corvo looks back, silent as he is, just looking. He feels so content, it’s a small perfect evening. One of so many that he has shared and will share with the Outsider.

They fall asleep like that, holding each other, warmed not just by fire that slowly goes out, but by their embrace, by their love.

Corvo wakes up to find only embers behind the fireplace grate and a deep dark night behind the window. He shifts a little and notices that the Outsider is awake too. He sighs and rests back on the pillows, blinking down at the young man whose eyes follow his every move.

Is it a dream or is he still awake? Corvo smiles in confusion, when the Outsider shifts and lowers himself down on Corvo. A blanket is dragged over the two of them, making the Outsider heavier. His face is so close, but he holds the kiss back. Instead, presses lips to Corvo’s jaw, then his cheek. And whispers, breaking the drowsy silence.

“If only you knew how you make me feel, Corvo.”

Corvo arches an eyebrow at him,  _ how? _

“I can’t describe for the word does not exist and the feelings are too many. Like… like this,” he whispers and at last connects his mouth with Corvo’s. The kiss is so instantly deep and hot, that Corvo can’t help running arms around the Outsider’s waist, locking him in an embrace so tight. Their legs tangle together tightly. Corvo kisses back, still somewhat asleep and drunken more. The Outsider kisses him relentlessly, seems to be pressing closer and harder into him, as if seeking all the skin contact he can manage.

They kiss until they feel beyond exhausted, when their lips tingle and the kiss threatens to grow into something else. But Corvo, and the Outsider too, realises that tonight is not the night for it. The young man slides down off him and settles back in Corvo’s embrace.

And yet… it is not enough. Corvo turns his head and kisses the Outsider again. Slowly, lips tender, occasionally flicking a tongue over the Outsider’s. By the Void, he cannot get enough. He will never get enough. Not when the Outsider’s lips are so sweet and soft and his heart is the most desired thing in the world. Not when his warm arms circle over Corvo’s chest, not when he whispers  _ I love you _ in Corvo’s mouth and gets pulled into an embrace again.

He is most certainly, definitely drunken on love. He, and his wonderful young Outsider.


	25. Day 25 - Final Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this brings us to the end of this story. At last, I say! It was... wonderful, really, to write so many kisses. Some may know how much of a kiss addict I am, and to be able to share it with you all was great. Though the story I wrote was barely unique, it's the feelings that count. I hope you enjoyed it and that it brought you some holiday cheer through this advent. Merry Christmas, folks!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

The Tower is closed that night, doors boarded, windows locked and curtains dropped down to prevent any Tower inhabitant from looking. Not that they are eager, when the Fugue Feast is about to begin. In a way, Corvo finds it rather ironic, that the one they are supposedly calling out to, wallowing in his darkness, has no darkness at all and bothers not about what orgies and other activities they indulge in during the break between months.

Emily sits in her secret room when Corvo finds her there, with Wyman sprawled on the floor, a book before him. The room is pleasantly quiet, restored after Delilah’s intrusion. In fact, it looks more armed on one side and more decorated on the other. Emily smiles at Corvo when he walks inside.

“If there is something to appreciate about the time of the Fugue Feast, it is that I don’t have any important meetings, because half of my advisors decided to run off,” she counts off a finger. “I also don’t have to go anywhere, for reasons quite clear, I presume. And I can spend time in the secret room, doing nothing. Corvo, how about I petition to prolong the Fugue Feast?”

He shakes head at her and grins. Wyman is too trying to hide a grin behind a book, snickering when pages cover the young face.

_ Emily, I thought you have outgrown that rebellious nature. _

“It’s Fugue Feast, father, I can afford being childish for a bit,” she retorts with a pretend-like tragic facial expression. Wyman laughs openly at that, Emily and Corvo join.

_ I came to check if everything is alright. I am retiring to my room, but should emergency arise, I will be at your service. _

“Good night, Father,” Emily rises to kiss Corvo’s cheek and he squeezes her shoulder appreciatively. “Don’t go having your own Fugue Feast.”

He rolls eyes, while Emily returns to her little daybed with Wyman climbing to join her on it. He leaves the couple to their rest, and heads to his chamber where the Outsider promised to be.

And he is. Standing by the window which is boarded and closed, no sound seeping through, no light peeking in. Corvo knows it’s merely a spot the Outsider likes and stands there by the force of habit. Corvo locks the room and proceeds inside, shrugging out of a heavy winter coat and leaving it on a small pouf in the corner. Carefully he puts out the lanterns, leaving only a handful of scattered candles around the room, and approaches the Outsider to embrace him from behind. The Outsider smells of mulled wine, of a pleasant scent of aftershave, something else that smells like home. He runs his arms over the young man’s chest and nuzzles in his shoulder, long fringe hiding away any view in front of him. The Outsider takes no time to quickly turn in his embrace and rest hands on his fronts.

“I have been thinking, Corvo…” he says vaguely, and Corvo thinks this is a peculiar start for a conversation. The Outsider’s hands push him away, but it does not seem to be intended as something negative. The Outsider turns and puts out the candles with his bare fingers, flames barely managing to touch him. The room drowns in pleasant heavy darkness, and Corvo’s eyes take a moment to re-adjust.

The Outsider tilts his head, revealing a delightful curve of a neck. He stands some space away from Corvo, but his chest is so obviously rising, and his eyes are bright even in the darkness of the room.

“It’s not that I enjoy the concept of the Fugue Feast,” the Outsider muses, taking a small step forward while running a hand down his jacket’s zipper and undoing it. It comes off with a light thud, meeting the floor. “But I cannot say I wouldn’t like to indulge in various pleasant activities while it lasts.”

Corvo’s mouth twitches in a smile.

“In fact, I believe this odd festivity gives us time to spend as much time indulging each other as we wish. And we wish, don’t we?”

He comes closer and closer, his posture so seductive as Corvo has never seen before, yet retaining that cold haughtiness that comes with being a god for over 4000 years old. The Outsider stands an inch away from him, his eyes looking from under heavy lustfully half-closed eyelids, a small smile on his lips.

Corvo arches to step closer, while his hands express the acknowledgement of their mutual desire. The Outsider huffs and presses him back to the wall, and Corvo thinks he just may be in trouble.

What has gotten in the young man’s head, he doesn’t know. But the Outsider is set to please, leaving Corvo no chance to return the caress just yet. He pushes forward to bite in his neck, finding the small zone where even a lick of the tip of a tongue makes Corvo weak in the knees. It occurs to him that the Outsider knows his every weakness and exploits it for their pleasure. Open-mouthed kisses tease his neck, so hot and wide. Those beautiful lips move upwards to find Corvo’s and engage them in a passionate kiss that starts out eagerly. Tongues licking at each other, slipping in hot mouths, they make the kiss sloppy. Corvo realises that the Outsider’s fingers skillfully unmake the hem of his shirt, pushing buttons away. Half way through the Outsider drops to kiss his abdomen and Corvo moans from the unexpectedness of this. Lips so insatiable, so eager, mouth at his skin, tracing kisses upwards. The Outsider’s hands bring the shirt up, revealing a muscled body that Corvo can’t see himself, but the Outsider seems to be enjoying. 

“I admit I enjoy having you at my mercy,” the Outsider says, capturing skin between his teeth playfully, making Corvo feel ticklish and yet aroused. “My dear Corvo…”

His kiss seems to be almost sizzling hot, and Corvo can’t help but bring a hand over his lover’s shoulder, returning some of the caress he is given in gentle guiding motions.

Everything else fails when the Outsider boldly rises to kiss his chest, catches his nipple and caresses it till Corvo’s throat spills a moan.

The Fugue Feast promises to be a few delightful and interesting nights.

When sunrise, supposedly, comes to Dunwall, Corvo lies in bed with the Outsider in the crook of his arm. The young man looks so serene, even somewhat innocent, not even close to the passionate lover that he was a few hours ago, making Corvo beg and come in pleasant loving agony. Now, his eyes are closed and his hair is messed up by the passed night. And his lips look swollen, reddish, soft. Corvo brings a thumb to caress them and taps lightly at the lower lip, to which the Outsider awakes. Corvo looks down at him, overcome with gentle feelings.

_ The best thing I could wish for is to always wake up like this. _

The Outsider looks at him for a moment, blinks semblance of awareness in his eyes and then rises a little only to be pushed back down by Corvo’s arm into his embrace. He ponders on something and then turns to look at Corvo, who can’t help the emotional flood from his heart.

“Is this… what I think it is?”

_ It is what you want it to be.  _ He knows what it means, and he means it.

“Then… this is what I want too. Every morning, every day. Not out of desperation or because I have nowhere to go. It’s because… I feel like I belong here. Where you are.”

Corvo takes a few seconds to appreciate what the Outsider says. And when the words close his heart like a stopper, make him full and fulfilled, he passionately drags the Outsider closer. The Outsider leans in and lets Corvo ruin his mouth with kisses that tingle his face, that make his heart flutter and beat against the rib cage hard enough for Corvo to hear.

Corvo slides on top of the Outsider and looks in his bright green eyes. It feels odd, to be here with this man in his embrace. How far they’ve come, from the distant surreal god whose eyes were blacker than nothing, from a named assassin with no guilt on his heart, only that he couldn’t protect his beloved one. A great many things seem to have happened to the two of them, but no matter what followed their step, it always led Corvo to the Outsider, and the Outsider to Corvo.

He doesn’t believe in fate. But he would be foolish not to believe in love. And that is the greatest boon of all, such as it is to Corvo and the Outsider.


End file.
